Genetic Drift
by the morrighan
Summary: Having the ATA gene is not always a good thing.
1. Chapter 1

Genetic Drift

Red.

Each vial contained a red liquid, differing shades of crimson and scarlet. All lined up in a row, trapped in a plastic container. All labeled but the handwriting was unreadable, a borderline scrawl that was purported to be letters forming words.

John Sheppard couldn't tell. He dropped his gaze from the row of red to the pile of papers on the table. Fiddled with the many sheets, scooted them this way and that. Straightened them. Glanced up to see the row of empty beds. Smiled impatiently as Radek Zelenka left, a splint wrapped around his index finger.

"Do you need something, colonel?" Carson Beckett asked, his Scottish brogue stronger as his weariness revealed itself. He eyed the other man.

"Uh, no, no. I'm fine," John replied, almost shyly. He walked along the beds, pausing to push a cart of the way. Lingering to glance at a data screen. Its rectangular cursor blinking, blinking. Waiting for the input of information. He studied a microscope, peered into the lens but there was nothing on the slide to view. All the while heading for the doctor who was seated at a table, perusing another screen. John paused nearer, fingers tapping the table.

Carson looked at him. "Yes? What do you want, John? Or have you taken a sudden interest in the practice of medicine?"

John smiled, shrugged. "I need to ask you something."

"Yes?" Carson encouraged. Waited. At John's silence he snapped, "Spit it out, man! I do have work to do today, unlike you."

"I..." Uncharacteristically hesitant John glanced round the nearly empty infirmary. Looked back at Carson and his inquisitive, impatient stare. "I need to know what this is. A design. A set of interlocking symbols." His hands waved in the air. He grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, drew squiggly lines. "Like this. Interlocking circles with these knotted squares." He shoved the paper at Carson, dropped the pen on the table.

Carson sighed, shaking his head. Picked up the crude sketch. "What am I, a bloody archaeologist now? These symbols...where did you see them?"

"On a bracelet," John quietly answered.

Carson smiled. "Oh. Aye. I see. These would be Celtic knots, then." He scribbled a more accurate drawing on the paper. "More like this, I take it?"

John briefly glanced at it. "Yes," he agreed. "I knew it was Irish, or Scottish, the same–"

"Not the same," Carson corrected. Amused at John's uncomfortable stance. At the way he was looking round at everything. Avoiding the doctor's gaze. "Similar, but not the same. Celtic knots, then entwined circles. Celtic art is full of intricate patterns. I take it this is for Moira."

John shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling oddly like a teenager on his first date. "Um, yeah. I had to use hers to jerry-rig a radio to an Ancient bio-scanner. It's a long story. Anyway...the thing is...where can I get a bracelet like that?"

Carson's smile grew. "Well, colonel, there are not many fine jewelry stores in the Pegasus galaxy, you know."

"Yeah, that's what she said. And hers was pure silver. It worked great as a conductor between the two–"

"And now you want to replace it. For this," Carson tapped the paper, "you'd have to go to Earth, I'm afraid."

John sighed. "I figured that, doc, but where?" he asked, irritated by Carson's evident enjoyment.

"Ireland?"

"Possibly. Or a specialty store could order you one. Use your resources, colonel. Rank does have its privileges, doesn't it?"

John sighed again, scowled as he met the doctor's gaze. "Thanks, doc."

"Oh, and don't worry, John. Mums the word," Carson teased with a grin. Blue eyes sparkling.

John was about to say something very caustic and rude when the comm unit blared to life. "Off world activation! Major Lorne's team, as scheduled."

"Ah, there you are, John, the–" Carson began to tease.

John shook his head. "Not a word, doc. Gotta go." He grabbed the piece of paper, crumpled it, shoved it into his jacket's pocket.

************************************************************************

The wormhole disgorged Evan Lorne and his team. Of which two were in the midst of an argument. John joined Elizabeth Weir as she entered the 'Gate room. Exchanged a glance at the increasingly raised voices.

"Herbivores, you said! Herbivores my ass!" Evan exclaimed. "Did you see the teeth on those things? They attacked–"

"They did not!" Moira O'Meara argued just as irritably. "You had to go spook them with your damn gun and nearly got us all killed!"

"They were mutated cattle and–"

"They were not! I told you! Genetic drift! A random change in the genetic diversity of a population. When only a few individuals from a large population migrate into a new area or when a part of a population evolves distinctly differing adaptations to enviromental–"

"Blah, blah, blah! Enough with the long-winded scientific jargon! Those things could have killed us if not for my–"

"I told you they were a remnant subspecies of _Peorovis oldowayensis, _domesticated and probably interbred with–"

"Oh, here we go with the Latin babble and hourly recitation of all things Darwin! I don't care about the creatures and their evolutionary history, O'Meara! Just how to kill them before they killed us!"

"If you did care, Lorne, you would have known you didn't need to kill any of them!"

"Whoa, whoa," John finally was able to interrupt, after exchanging an amused glance with Elizabeth. "What happened on P1348X, major?"

"Not much, sir," Evan answered, exchanging a glare with Moira. "It's a pretty useless world. No technology, no ZPMs, no Ancient structures. Just a village and nice people and horribly mutated cows."

"They weren't mutated cows! And by all means don't mention the vast fields of crops and the corn that could have fed us instead of–"

"Corn? All right, major, give me a full report. These villagers had corn?" John asked, gaze moving from Moira to Evan.

"Yes, sir. An actual cornfield."

"It was an agricultural backwater world," Thomas Kavanaugh added, exchanging a puzzled glance with Aaron Josephes.

"The people were nice, though. Friendly," Aaron added.

"Until trigger-happy here decided to kill a few of their livestock," Moira stated, glared at Evan again. Looked at John suddenly. Smiled. "Hi John."

Evan glared at her. "Next time I'll just let the mutated cattle run you over, shall I? Better than spending an hour on the evolutionary history of a mouse! A mouse, for God's sake! You held up the entire mission to expostulate on a damn rodent!"

"Fine! Next time why don't you just shoot it too! While you're at it just shoot everything that moves, won't you? God forbid we stop for five seconds to discover an anomaly or a new species!"

"Who cares if you found a new rodent? It's a waste of time, O'Meara! Like everything else you do!"

"And I know how you hate wasting time, Lorne! March, march, march like a good little soldier boy!"

"Enough!" Elizabeth shook her head, staring at them. "What happened on P1348X?" she echoed John's question. "No, you tell me, lieutenant," she forestalled them, raising her hand.

"Nothing, ma'am, sir," Aaron replied. "It was a typical meet and greet. The 'Gate is on a hill, lots of rolling meadows. We went three klicks to the village, met the–"

"We would have been there sooner but we were unnecessarily delayed by 'ooh, there's a mouse'" Evan mocked Moira's voice.

"Shut up! At least I didn't march into the village like I was going to take it over!" Moira replied.

"Stop it! What the hell is going on here?" John demanded, amusement replaced by concern. "Josephes, were they like this before?"

"No, sir. Not until we got back." The lieutenant shrugged.

"I'm sending all four of you to medical. Go!" Elizabeth ordered.

**************************************************************************

"All right, take me through it, major. From the beginning," John ordered. His arms were folded across his chest as he stood before Evan. The other man was seated on an infirmary bed, arm extended as Carson drew some blood.

"It was just like Josephes said, sir. Rolling hills. Meadows. Three klicks to the village. The buildings were of stone, with a center section like a city center. A gathering place, no doubt," Evan explained calmly. He bent his arm, holding the bandage over it as Carson moved aside.

"The villagers were friendly. Interested in trade. The head man gave us a welcome feast, then we headed–"

"A welcome feast? Explain," John said, sensing a likely culprit.

"Bland food, fruits, a honeyed mead that was sweet. O'Meara poured it down like an alcoholic lush and–"

"I need a drink to put up with your mind-numbing banter. What a nice village, what nice crops, ooh look at their big shiny knives," Moira mocked from a few beds away from his.

"Moira," John cautioned, glanced at her. "Continue, major."

"They took us on a tour. Of the fields full of crops. Even corn, sir. An actual cornfield, but no, we didn't go into the cornfield. I've seen those movies," he jested. Did not see even a glimmer of answering amusement in John's gaze. "Anyway, then the herds of sheep and those mutated cattle, then they attacked us."

"They were not mutated and they did not attack us!" Moira argued. "They were a unique breed. The villagers were very proud of them until soldier boy here decided to shoot a few for fun."

"Believe me, I regret it now, if only to have let it trample you to shut up your pointless Latin rambling and–"

"Major!" John reprimanded. "Next!" He noted the odd discrepancy. How Evan seemed normal except when he spoke about or to Moira.

"Sir? After we saved the head man and killed a few of those mutated cattle we returned here."

"After you killed the head man's prize bull we returned here," Moira corrected, as Carson took some blood. "Ow!"

"Sorry, Moira, it's just a wee poke, a wee prick to get a sample," Carson assured, filling the vial.

"A wee poke is about all she'll ever get," Evan snarled.

"You would know about a wee prick," Moira agreed.

"Enough! What the..." John shook his head. "So after the cows you just returned here. That's it? That's all?"

"Yes, sir. Why all the questions? It was a completely routine mission. Except for putting up with gimpy there," he gestured back to Moira.

"That's enough, major," John warned, losing patience. "Are you done with your tests, Carson?"

"Yes. I need to analyze this," Carson eyed them. "You two report back to me in one hour."

"You heard the doc. Dismissed, for now," John ordered.

"Yes, sir." Evan stood, turned to leave. Glared at Moira who glared back. "Happy now? You have managed to complicate a simple mission with your stupid analysis and ridiculous observations. I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't tell a cow from a sheep...or a damn mouse," he taunted.

"I can tell the difference between an idiot and you...oh wait...they're the same," she retorted.

"Why the hell are you even on my team, O'Meara? Who needs a useless piece of baggage like you? A limping cryptozoologist with absolutely nothing to contribute."

"Go to hell, Lorne!" she spat. He advanced towards her, but was hauled back by a firm hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell is going on here, major?" John demanded. "I want an explanation. Now!"

"What, sir?" Evan asked, genuinely puzzled.

"What? You don't find it odd how you are talking to Moira, and she to you?" John tested.

"No, sir. Why is it odd? Can I go now, sir? I can't stand the stench in the room," Evan's narrowed gaze hit her again.

She frowned at him. "I can't stand the stupidity."

"Go!" John all but shoved him away from Moira. He turned to Carson. "Carson, we need those results now!"

"I know, I know! First let me get Josephes and Kavanaugh, then we can run a comparison."

"Moira," John said, taking her arm as she stood. "With me. Now."

"Where are we going, John?" she asked as he led her out of the infirmary. "John? Slow down, please!"

He slowed his steps, glancing back to see her limping gait. "Sorry, Moira. Here. We need to talk."

She smiled, running her hand up his back as he opened the door to her room. "Talk? I thought you didn't like talking, John." Suggestions glimmered in her brown eyes as he turned to her. She closed the door behind her.

"About the mission. About Lorne," he clarified.

She frowned, dumped her pack on the floor. "What? How he charges in like he's the next military genius? How he forces us to keep in line? God forbid we take a mere second to find something new, to investigate a possible discovery, oh no, march in line, keep the pace. He doesn't want to hear anything remotely interesting or scientific. Not like you, John. He only cares about weapons and ZPMs, nothing else. Either new intel on the Wraith or on the Ancients, nothing else matters."

"Now I am worried. That's how you describe me, not Lorne." He touched her arm, drew her closer. "Moira, what happened on that planet? You can tell me. It's just the two of us now." He scanned her face, her body, saw no obvious signs of injury.

She smiled, ran her hands up his chest, fingers skimming along the snug black t-shirt. She stepped closer to kiss him. "John...how much time do we have? Hmm?"

He smiled, but caught her wrists, stopping her. "I'm serious, Moira. What happened?"

"John, you are, aren't you?"

"I'm what?" he asked, thrown by the question.

She considered, smiled. "You have no reason to be jealous," she soothed, kissing him again. A slow, languid motion on her mouth on his. Inviting. "None at all," she insisted.

"I'm not jealous," he said. At least not now he silently added. Now that they were seeing each other. "Moira?"

"Nothing happened, John," she assured. "I only want you," she insisted, kissing him. "I would never want Lorne. The very thought makes me ill. I can't stand that self-righteous, narrow-minded pillock of a–"

"Moira? What happened?" John persisted. "You are friends with–"

"Friends?" She laughed. "With him? Never! I detest him, John. Now..." She kissed him again, sliding her body along his, "where were we?"

He disengaged himself reluctantly. "Stay here until you report back to Beckett. All right?"

She sighed. "All right. If that's what you want, John."

"It is." He eyed her, bewildered. "We need to get this straightened out first."

*************************************************************************

Carson sighed. Shook his head. "I've run every test I can think of, and even some that I made up on the spot. There's nothing there. Except for a trace amount of an inhibitor in Josephes and Kavanaugh. I found an injection spot on their necks, so I'll check Moira and Evan to be certain."

"So the ones who are acting normal have a trace amount of what?" John asked.

"An inhibitor. It blocks the memory centers of the brain. Only a trace amount, though. Harmless."

"So whatever happened won't be recalled by Josephes or Kavanaugh," Elizabeth reasoned.

"Right."

"And the ones who are acting strangely show nothing foreign in their systems? Nothing at all?" John inquired.

"Aye. Not even a trace amount of anything. I can't explain their behavior, Elizabeth. It's got me completely baffled," the doctor admitted.

"It's not the enzyme, is it?" John asked, recalling Moira's earlier amorous mood. But it wasn't unusual or out of character. Although the jealousy question had thrown him.

"No. I triple-checked," Carson assured. Shrugged.

"This may sound crazy, but could it be nothing? I mean, could Moira and Evan just have had a massive disagreement and now are angry at each other?" Elizabeth suggested.

Carson shrugged again. "Perhaps. But those two are friends. They have always gotten along fine. When they did have a disagreement it was always amicable. Not like this."

"They aren't acting like themselves...but only towards each other. Towards other people they are normal," John noted. Frowned.

"Well, let me check them for an injection spot. Maybe we'll learn more. I'll also run a full body scan. But my initial readings did not indicate any foreign objects."

John sighed. "Well, if it's not something they ingested, or something implanted in them then what?" He looked at Elizabeth. "I'm going to prep my team. We'll go to that planet and get samples of this welcome feast and the water. And whatever else may help."

"All right, but be careful," Elizabeth cautioned. "We don't know what happened yet."

"I'd better go with you, colonel. It would be more expedient for me to test any samples on site."

"No, Carson. I need you here to monitor Moira. And Lorne," he suddenly added. "I'll get my team prepped. We'll back in one hour, or less."

***************************************************************************

Moira stalked into the infirmary. "Carson! I'm reporting as ordered," she informed him evenly. She sat on a bed, waited. "Oh. Doctor Weir."

Elizabeth smiled. "I just wanted to talk to you. After the tests."

"Hey, doc, I'm here for your..." Evan stopped in mid-stride, mid-sentence. "What is she doing here?"

"Does he have to be here?" Moira rejoined, nearly at the same time.

Carson and Elizabeth exchanged a glance. "Yes," the doctor answered. "Sit there, major." He approached. "I need to look for an injection spot."

"Injection? I wasn't injected with anything," Evan argued as Carson turned his head this way and that, examining Evan's neck.

"Carson's just trying to find your brain. It's a marvel you can walk and talk without one," Moira insulted.

"Put a gag in her mouth, will you, doc? It's the only way to shut her up."

"At least I have something to say, unlike robot boy."

"Damn crypto always chasing after phantoms and never obeying your commanding officer."

"Don't worry, you'll get your report, all filled out and properly spelled with no typos."

"Good. It will put me to sleep tonight."

"Will the pair of you be quiet!" Carson snapped. He stepped back. "No marks. There's nothing."

"Of course there's nothing, Carson, he's a mindless robotic soldier who can't even conceive of anything beyond his simplistic–"

"God, will you shut up?" Evan yelled, whirling to face her. "All day I have to put up with your constant whining and pseudo-scientific jargon when you are no more than a glorified veterinarian who can't even tell when a cow's mutated!"

"Fuck you, Lorne!" she snapped.

"Not even in my worst nightmares would I ever want to fu–"

"Stop this now!" Both looked at Elizabeth's outraged, bewildered gaze. The shock.

"Sorry, ma'am," Evan apologized. "I just can't stand that constant, irritating voice. Can you order her to stop talking?"

"You make me stop talking, if you can, you cowardly piece of–"

"Moira, please!" Carson moved to her, lead her to the other side of the room. "Wait here until I've finished with Major Lorne, all right?"

"Of course, Carson. I'm sorry...I just can't stand being near him. It's hell being on his team."

"It's hell having you on my team," he rejoined.

***************************************************************************

Carson scratched his head, closed the data screen. Frustrated he strode out of the infirmary. He headed for Elizabeth's office, knocked briskly and stepped inside. He sat in an empty chair as she looked up from her computer. Shook his head.

"What? Nothing?" Elizabeth asked, surprised.

"Nothing. I've sent them apart to fill out their reports. Far from each other. I haven't found a bloody thing, Elizabeth," he began. "Every test is clean! Every scan is clean! What the hell happened to them? They were the best of friends! Now their animosity seems to grow stronger with each hour! I don't understand it!"

Elizabeth frowned. "It doesn't make sense, Carson. You've found nothing but something obviously changed them. But the animosity is only towards each other, not anyone else. How can you explain that?" She paused, leaned forward in her chair, arms folded on the table. "I know they were friends. But were they ever...you know? I mean...were they seeing each other?"

"Romantically? No. I mean," Carson amended his emphatic statement, "I don't think so. Not like that. Just friends."

"Are you sure? That could explain the antagonism. You sound very certain."

"Aye," Carson agreed, relenting. "I know for a fact that there is nothing like that between them."

Elizabeth smiled, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Really? May I ask how you know, Carson? For certain?"

"You may, but you'll have to take my word. It's not my place to tattle," he rejoined, oddly protective of the pair, of John and Moira. He stood. "Maybe something will turn up in the samples Colonel Sheppard's team brings back."

"I hope so," she concurred. "If not there may be nothing we can do for them."


	2. Chapter 2

Genetic Drift2

The wormhole disengaged behind the team as they stepped out of the Stargate. Ronon Dex and Teyla Emmagan immediately stepped round into flanking positions, even though the hill was empty. John moved to the DHD, making certain it was functional. He turned back as Rodney McKay was still standing near the 'Gate, a quizzical look on his face.

"Did anyone else feel that?" Rodney asked, running his hands over his body.

"Feel what?" John asked, glancing round at the rolling green fields. The blue sky.

"I don't know. A...a ripple, just as we exited the 'Gate..." Rodney struggled to describe the strange feeling that had encompassed his body. Finding no lingering pain or injury he dropped his hands to his sides.

"I felt nothing," Teyla remarked, eying the physicist with patient skepticism.

"Nothing here," Ronon confirmed. He hefted his big gun, but there was no one in sight.

"Not a thing," John agreed.

"All right. Maybe it was just me," Rodney realized. He hefted his pack to his other shoulder, pulled out his scanner.

"What's in there anyway?" John asked, staring at the bulging pack as Rodney stepped down to join him.

"Supplies." To the colonel's continued stare he elaborated, "Food. Extra food and water. You said we were not to eat or drink anything, right?"

John smirked. "We're only going to be here for an hour at the most," he chided. Teyla and Ronon smiled.

"Well, you can't be absolutely certain, can you? Besides, you know I have hypoglycemia and need to have meals at certain times, and extra food just in case."

John shook his head. "Let's head out. Teyla, take point. Ronon, the six. Rodney, any readings or are you too busy calculating your next meal?"

"Ha ha," Rodney snarled. Checked his scanner. "No. Nothing. Looks like Kavanaugh was right about this being another backwater, agricultural planet."

"The village should be three klicks. That way. Let's move out. Stay sharp. We don't want the same thing happening to us that happened to Lorne's team."

"Whatever that was," Ronon muttered.

It was a pleasant walk. Rolling hills of green grasses and flowering weeds. A gentle breeze blew. The sun shone brightly in the blue sky, but was not too hot. Birds sang in the distant trees. Sounds of a bubbling stream promised water, coolness.

"I see the village. It is not far," Teyla stated, doubling back to lead the rest. "Stone houses, like Major Lorne described. Very attractive. Clean."

"Why didn't you say how far it was?" asked Rodney, frowning as he followed John. "Why couldn't you fly a Jumper just to the village? Why did we have to trudge all this way to–"

"Enough, Rodney. It's a lovely day for a stroll. Ah...here we go." John moved ahead, led them into the center of the town. A stone fountain sprayed water in a arc, splashing back down into the circular structure. Pink flowers floated on the serene surface. "See anyone?"

"Maybe they're out harvesting," suggested Ronon.

"Or planning their next attack," Rodney wondered. He swept his scanner in the air. "Still nothing. Not a thing."

"Greetings, friends!" The team whirled as one, as a man appeared where there had been only emptiness. He was clad in modest clothes, arms outstretched in welcome, bearded face bearing a smile. More people converged behind him, all smiles. "You are dressed as our first friends were. Do you come from the same village?"

"Indeed we do," John agreed, only lowering his gun slightly. "They told us how nice you people were so we just had to see for ourselves."

"Your friends suggested a trading agreement. Our crops and corn for better land tillers and medical supplies. Are you here to ratify the accord?"

"In time. First we would like to sample some of your welcome feast. Then take the tour," John evaded smoothly. Eying the man, the rest. Their simple attire, their friendly smiles.

"Of course!" He clapped his hands. "Bring our new friends a welcoming feast! Come, come with us!" He gestured towards a table that was being set near the fountain.

"We would be honored by your hospitality," Teyla agreed, led them towards it. "Your world seems very peaceful."

"Too peaceful," commented Ronon. He exchanged a look with John, who nodded slightly.

"We have been fortunate this last cycle," the man agreed. "The Wraith have not struck us as often, but I fear they will soon enough. It is their way."

"So you know of the Wraith?" Teyla tested.

"Of course! What village does not? We only hope to gather our crops and survive the next...oh, here we are!"

Platters of food, cups of mead were distributed by two beautiful blonde women. Rodney smiled, watching them, selected a choice slice of bread.

"Rodney," John warned, reminded.

"What? Oh...right." He set it back down with an audible sigh.

"What are you doing?" the man asked as the team began to bag selected pieces of the food. "I can assure you our food is fresh and not spoiled."

"We like to share with those we left back home," John explained.

"It is our custom," Teyla elaborated at the man's puzzled mien, "to only partake when all of our people can equally share in the bounty. It is our way."

"It was not the way of your friends," the man noted.

"They're new," John asserted. "New friends." He stood. "The tour?"

The man stood, still watching as the samples disappeared into various packs. "If you wish. It is this way."

Teyla sidled up to John as they followed. "You might wish to employ a little more politeness, colonel. Your abrupt manner may cause suspicion."

"We don't have time to waste on niceties, Teyla," John countered. "But I can be civil."

"I can't," Ronon said. "These people are too happy."

"Too happy? Since when is that a crime?" asked Rodney, munching on a candy bar purloined from his bulging pack.

"No, Ronon's right. Something's off," John agreed, grip steady on his P90.

"What? Is the Force telling you that, John?" Rodney snapped, shaking his head.

"I do not feel anything off, colonel. Perhaps this is a truly peaceful world," Teyla suggested.

"This way, please," the man indicated with a raised arm, stopping as the team had fallen behind while engrossed in their discussion. "These are our fields. We grow many crops. To trade with other villages, and to sustain us. We are blessed with a steady warm season and only the mildest of cold ones."

Stalks of growing wheat gave way to rows and rows of vegetables. Abundant plant growth. Fruits sprouting from growing vines. John paused by the cornfield. "Wow. This is real corn."

Rodney stared too. "I can't remember ever seeing corn in this galaxy."

"It is an uncommon plant," Teyla remarked, tilting her head to examine the bobbing heads as the wind blew against the stalks. "Is it common on your world?"

"Very...especially my country," John remarked, still staring.

"Our fields are tilled every year, except the third when they are left fallow. We have sheep and our pride is our cattle herd. The finest in the land, or so we have been told."

The team moved on, but halted again. "Mutated cows?" Rodney asked, staring at the larger bovines. They had brown and white fur. Massive, curved horns.

"Not according to Doctor O'Meara," John said. "Just a remnant population of a subspecies of..." He paused, could imagine her amusement. "Whatever. Some kind of genetic drift of a...oh crap, I can't remember all of that. They look peaceful enough." John headed for the man who was standing apart, on the crest of a hill before he began to walk down the other side. "Didn't one of our friends kill one of your cows? Hello?"

John froze, lifted his gun, reaching the crest of the hill. The man had vanished. Quickly John scanned the rolling hills, saw nothing. No one. He gestured silently. Teyla and Ronon joined him, guns at the ready. But there was nothing to shoot. "Where the hell did he go?"

"I do not see anyone," Teyla said, frowning.

"Look! We've got company!" Ronon pointed as a group of villagers headed for them, rising up as they climbed out of a shallow embankment hidden by the hills. They carried a huge basket among them.

"What's that?" John asked. "Rodney!" He glanced over as the scientist finally joined them, breathing heavily after the climb. He shrugged the bulging pack to his other shoulder.

The man appeared, gestured as the rest set down the load. He advanced, unconcerned at the three guns pointing at him. "Your cut."

"Our cut? Our cut of what?" Rodney exclaimed, staring.

"Of the kill. When your friends killed our bull it was decided to butcher it for meat and its hide. This is your share. We understand you thought the herd was attacking you, but it was not." The man gestured. The large basket was hefted and then dumped at their feet. Opened. John lifted his gun, stared at the wrapped meat. Wrapped to reveal slices of beef ready to cook. The folded spotted hide.

Rodney stared. "Steak?" he muttered, mouth watering at the sight.

Teyla and Ronon abruptly lifted their weapons just as John was lowering his. "What is that?"

Teyla demanded harshly.

"Teyla?" John glanced at them, their aggressive postures. "What do you see?"

"Can you not see it, Sheppard?" Ronon asked in disgust. "It's raw meat. Entrails."

"Rodney, does that look like USDA prime to you?" John asked, puzzled.

Rodney nodded. "Yes. It's just cuts of beef ready for the grill."

"I sense the Wraith!" Teyla warned. She looked round, wide-eyed.

"Where?" John spun on his heels, lifting his weapon. Saw nothing.

"I...I do not know..."

"Not in ships. I'm not detecting any kind of energy readings," Rodney said, remembering to check his scanner. He eyed the cuts of beef again. "Entrails? Really?"

"Through the 'Gate, then?" Ronon asked, glaring the villagers.

John aimed his weapon at the head man. "All right. What the hell is going on here? What did you do to my people? The ones who visited you earlier?"

The man spread his arms wide. Smiled. "We did nothing, friend."

"No more Mr. Nice Guy," John snapped. Prodded the man in the chest with his P90. "What did you do to my people?" he demanded.

"We did nothing," the man repeated. "Come, have some mead, join our feast."

"Then the Wraith did. Crap," John muttered.

"They are close...indistinct...yet they come..." Teyla shook her head. "It is difficult to discern their numbers or their location."

"Let's go, Sheppard! Leave them!" Ronon was turning, turning to search for an enemy he as of yet could not see.

"Are you in league with the Wraith?" John asked, scowling in disgust. "What did you do to–"

"I told you, friend, we did nothing. Come, share our repast, join our hall."

"Let's go! Now!" John ordered. The team began to back away, weapons raised. The man did not move. Just stood, arms outstretched in a frozen greeting. A frozen embrace. Just smiled. As did the other villagers. Just stood. Smiled.

"Look at them!" Ronon shouted, stopping to stare. "They're just doing...nothing. Smiling."

Rodney glanced back. "Creepy."

"Come on! Let's leave this village of the damned, double-time!" John ordered. "Get ready to dial the 'Gate!"

"I can feel them!" Teyla insisted, running with the rest. "Where are they?" She stared round, but did not see anything. Anyone. Shaking her head to clear it she caught up with the men as they ran quickly past the fields, through the village. It was empty, deserted again. The fountain spraying water. Pink flowers twirling on the still surface.

"Why don't they pursue us?" asked Ronon, slowing as the rest slowed reaching the hills. He turned back but only empty fields met his gaze.

"Are you sure you sense the Wraith?" Rodney asked, catching his breath as he climbed the hill.

"Yes! No...now...it is very odd. Indistinct..." Teyla shook her head again. "I have not encountered this before."

"This is getting weirder by the minute," John noted. "Rodney! Dial!"

"I am!" Rodney leaned over the DHD, pressing the symbols with each deep breath. "Sending IDC now!" He looked up as Ronon towered over him. "Are you sure they were entrails?"

Ronon smiled. "Big, bloody, raw entrails."

"Makes you wonder if that corn was real too," John commented as the wormhole erupted. "In. Go." He stared round. There was no pursuit. No attack. Silence. The place appeared as peaceful as it had when they had first arrived. Frustrated and annoyed John waited as his team entered the 'Gate, then backed into the wormhole himself.

John turned as he stepped into the 'Gateroom. "Get those samples to Beckett." He shrugged as Elizabeth eyed him expectantly. "Nothing. I mean...it was like the village of the damned...all happy smiles and friendliness...then the weirdness began."

"Weirdness?"

"Yeah...we saw the corn. The cows. But then Rodney and I saw prime cuts of steak whereas Teyla and Ronon saw bloody entrails. And Teyla could sense the Wraith, but we encountered none. We hightailed it out of there but the villagers just stood and smiled. Didn't pursue. Not even a shout to stop us. It was...weird."

"Sounds it," Elizabeth stated, arching a brow. "Maybe those samples you collected will help."

"Has there been any change?" he asked, walking with her as she exited the 'Gate room.

"None so far. And Carson can't find a single thing wrong them with. Physically."

***************************************************************************

Moira limped quickly down a hallway, clutching a data pad under her arm. She passed several closed doors, ignored an opening one and kept on her way.

"Hey, gimpy! Got your report done yet?" Evan taunted, stepping out of his room. He headed for her, expression full of dislike, annoyance.

Moira whirled. "Yes, ma'am!" She threw at him. It nearly hit his head as he ducked. It clattered on the floor, sliding several feet up the hallway. "Good reflexes, asshole!"

"I'll just make you do it again, bitch," Evan glowered.

"Really? You can't make me do anything!" she snapped, voice full of contempt.

He reached her. "I can make you do anything I want! Now go pick up that damn report! No, better yet, write out a whole new one!"

"I'm not doing your stupid bureaucratic waste of time report twice! Do it yourself." She shoved him. "Now get the hell out of my way!"

He shoved her back. "Do it now!"

"Get out of my way, asshole!" She shoved. "Move, you dullard! Can't you understand simple English?"

"Can't you? Do the fucking report again!"

"Make me, dickhead!"she taunted.

He shoved her violently into the wall. "You fucking bitch! I will make you do it! Just shut up for once!"

"Piss off, Lorne! You're a stupid piece of–"

"Bitch!" He shook her, threw her to the floor. Landed on top of her. Covered her mouth with his hand as the other encircled her throat. Tighter. "I'm going to fuck you to silence!"

She shoved his hand off her mouth, bit it. "You can't even get it up let alone–" She began to choke as his grip tightened. As his other hand joined the first on her throat.

John nearly tripped over the data pad sprawled on the floor. He stared at it, stepped round it. Looked up to see Evan on top of Moira. Both hands entwined around her throat. "Lorne!" John broke into a run, racing down the hallway, pulling his gun as shock and anger collided. "Get off her, now! Major Lorne! Get off her now or I will shoot you!" He aimed, skidding to halt not far from them.

"I'm doing you a favor, colonel! Shutting her up once and for all!"

John clicked the safety off, aimed the 9mm. "Damn it, Lorne! I will shoot you! To kill! Let her go now!"

Evan released her throat. Moira gagged, coughed, catching her breath.

"Get off her!" John growled, trying to reign in his own temper, his fury. Trying to remember that Evan wasn't himself, not in his right mind. Evan moved to his feet, glaring down at her. Moira moved to her knees, coughing. She shakily stood, hand at her throat.

"Shoot him, John!"she rasped, voice raw. "Did you see what he was going to do?"

"Only what you deserve, bitch," Evan explained.

John stepped to Moira, moved in front of her as she leaned against the wall, still coughing. "That's enough, major. Report to the infirmary, now! That's a direct order!"

"Yes, sir." He turned, headed down the hallway. "Stupid whore."

Moira grabbed the gun out of John's hands, fired. The bullet grazed Evan's arm, spinning him round. Blood spurted onto the wall.

"Moira!" John shouted, too stunned to move for a second. He snatched the gun before she could fire it a second time.

"You fucking bitch!" Evan raced towards her, murderous gleam in his eyes.

John intercepted him, shoved him against the far wall. "Lorne! Stop this!" John tapped his earpiece awkwardly. "I need security to level 2, now!" he bellowed. "Lorne, stand down!"

"Give me the gun, John! I'll finish him!" Moira offered coldly, moving as if to grab it from his other hand.

"Damn it, Moira, no!" John had his hands full, trying to keep the gun away from Moira's grasp at the same time restraining Evan against the wall.

"She shot me, sir! Punish her! Put her slovenly ass in the brig!"

"He tried to rape me, John! To kill me! Shoot him!"she cried. "He's not worthy of being in the Air Force anymore!"

"Here! Take him to his quarters and have Beckett tend him there!" John roughly shoved Evan into the two security marines who had arrived. He holstered his gun, grabbed Moira before she could do anything, but she scrambled free of him. "I want two guards posted on his door! Lorne, you are restricted to your quarters! Got it?"

"Yes, sir. You miserable cu–" Evan directed his insult towards Moira.

"Go!" John shouted, his hands clenching into fists, nearly knocking Lorne senseless. Turned and pulled Moira to her room. "Damn it! Moira, what the hell is going on?"

"That's it? You're just going to let him get away with this? He could have killed me, John! You see what an animal he is!"

John ignored her, guided her into her room, closed the door. "Moira..." He touched her arms, her cheek. "Focus, Moira. On me. I need to ask you something."

She met his gaze, breath easing, seemingly calmer. More like herself. "John? Are you going to do nothing?" Tears filled her brown eyes.

"I'll deal with him, believe me. Don't you worry. I need you to remember, Moira! I need you to remember anything unusual. When you exited the 'Gate on P1348X. Any weird feelings?"

She considered, caught by his serious expression, intent green gaze. "Yes."

"Tell me."

"The minute we got there that prick of a major took charge and ordered–"

"No, no! Focus! On the 'Gate! Did you feel anything? A feeling, a ripple...a vibration...think, Moira! Please. It would have only lasted a second or two."

She stared at him. "John...I..." she shrugged. "I did feel a ripple...it was very quick. Kavanaugh said it was just an anomaly...no one else said they felt it."

"Are you sure? Not even Lorne?" John regretted his words as her expression soured.

"He couldn't feel a rock if it landed on his ego."

"Never mind," John sighed. "Moira. The Wraith. Do you remember any Wraith?"

She resumed her stare at him. "What?" She shook her head. Ignored low whispers in her head. "No! I certainly would have remembered any Wraith, John, please!"

"All right. Do you need to see Carson?" he asked, gently touched the fading marks on her neck.

"No. I'm fine. What are you going to do to him, John?" she asked, her voice, her mood changing again. "Are you going to court-martial that animal? Send him back to Earth? Are you going to shoot him?"

John sighed. "Stay here. I'll leave a guard at your door, but stay right here."

"Where are you going? Are you going to leave me, John?" she asked, grabbing his arm.

"You'll be safe here. I have to see if Carson found anything. Stay right here, Moira, please." He kissed her gently, left her staring after him.

****************************************************************************

Carson swore. Elizabeth stared, shocked, never having heard any profanity from the doctor. "There! What the bloody hell were you thinking, son? I'd have shot you myself for even laying a hand on our Moira!"

"Ow!" Evan complained at the tight bandage on his arm. "She had it coming, doc. She goaded me with that mouth of...ow!"

"If I ever hear those words from you again I will shoot you myself! I don't care if you're infected or not! Your behavior is inexcusable! There!" Carson stood, left Evan's room, his face revealing his disgust, his anger.

"Carson, calm down," Elizabeth urged, a hand on his arm as they walked down the hallway. "It was not entirely his fault."

"Even so you think that excuses what he did? Ah, colonel! How is Moira?" he asked, as John met them halfway in the hallway.

John glanced past them to see two guards stationed at Evan's door. Met the doctor's gaze. "Fine. A few fading marks on her neck, but otherwise she's fine."

"Is she upset? Sick? Crying?"

"No. I mean, she's upset. Pissed. Wants to shoot Lorne, or have me do it."

"That's understandable," Carson agreed.

"Carson! That is not! That is just like Lorne. They are exhibiting the same symptoms," Elizabeth remonstrated. "The hatred is increasing between them."

"Did you find anything in the stuff we brought back?" asked John.

"No."

"No?" John echoed, frustrated. Dismayed.

"There was nothing in the food or the drink. To be honest with you, I have no idea what is wrong with them. But it is not chemical."

"Got it!" Rodney joined them, snapping his fingers. "The ripple! Remember? John, you felt it but you just didn't notice it. Did Moira feel it too?

"The...yes," John sorted his thoughts. "Only for a second. Lorne didn't–"

"He did. Just didn't realize it like you. I only noticed it because of my heightened sensitivity. And because I am a trained scientist. Moira too. We are trained to recognize any kind of–"

"So what was the ripple?" Elizabeth asked, heading him off before Rodney could expostulate on the superiority of scientists yet again.

"A scan. More specifically an ATA gene scan. Detecting the genome. That's why only Moira, Lorne, John, and myself felt it."

"So it targeted us. Those who carry the gene," John surmised. "Why?"

"That's not as important as what," Carson opined. "What do the Wraith want with those possessing the ATA gene? What did they do to Moira and Evan? And that's not the worst of it."

"What do you mean?" Rodney asked. "What could be worse than being preyed upon by the Wraith?" He shuddered.

"That's not just it, Rodney. They weren't preyed upon. Weren't fed upon. No marks. No loss of vitality. No traces of enzyme in their systems. I fear they may have been experimented upon. Or worse."

"What could be worse than being experimented on by the Wraith?" Elizabeth asked, wincing.

"I don't know. I fear something terrible happened to them. So terrible they chose not to remember it."


	3. Chapter 3

Genetic Drift3

There was a silence that stretched. And stretched. A stillness in the hallway as no one said a word. No one moved. All startled by Carson's observations.

Finally John spoke. "Are you saying they are blocking the memory themselves?" A tightness was developing in his chest.

"Yes, colonel. Whatever happened was so traumatic they only way they could cope was to have their memories shut down. Blocking the experience. But it is still there. Leaching out in their odd, hostile behavior."

"Would hypnosis or regression therapy help?" Elizabeth suggested.

"No. The trauma is too severe. They have to remember on their own. I don't think any kind of therapy would work at this point." Carson shook his head, sighed.

"That's not good enough, Carson. We need answers now!" John fumed. "Isn't there some drug you could give Lorne? Some kind of anti-inhibitor to open his memories?"

"Sadly, no, John. I believe that would be too dangerous."

"Then I'll go back to that planet and make those damn people talk!"

"No, you won't," Elizabeth said, a restraining hand on his arm. "You've been targeted too. So has Rodney. I don't want the same thing happening to you two. No," she raised her voice, forestalling argument, "I won't risk it."

"Fine," John said through gritted teeth, "then I'll send a team lacking the ATA gene!"

"And how would they get there? On foot. Vulnerable. Since they would lack the ATA gene probably nothing would happen to them. It would be a waste of resources," Rodney reasoned.

"You're not helping, Rodney!" John snapped. Impatient. Frustrated. Needing to something, anything. Anything but sit around and wait.

"Or worse you would be sending them to their deaths. To be food for the Wraith," Elizabeth concurred.

"Damn it," John swore softly, clenching his hands into fists.

"Colonel Sheppard," a voice sounded in his earpiece, "Doctor O'Meara is requesting to see you. She says she remembers something."

"Copy. On my way." John eyed Carson. "Maybe we don't have to wait that long. Moira has just remembered something."

"Tread carefully, John!" Carson called after his rapidly retreating form. "I'd best check on Evan. The same thing could be happening to him."

John strode down the hallways. Dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand. "Moira?" He entered her room, waved the door closed behind him. Stared. Moira was sitting on the bed, hugging herself, rocking slightly back and forth. Back and forth. "Moira, what do you remember?" He stepped to her, sat next to her.

Moira met his gaze, brown eyes wide. "Not...not much. I fell asleep. I was...I was...I was in a cocoon, John."

"A cocoon? But you weren't fed upon, Moira. Carson said there wasn't a mark on you."

She shook her head. "I wasn't. I...that's all. I can't." She was shutting down again, closing in on herself, shielding from the memories whispering in her head.

John caught her arms, stopping her repetitive motion. "You have to try, Moira. Try to remember. Think!" he urged.

"I–" She grimaced, closing her eyes. "A...a cocoon...so tight..."

_The fibers are tight. Wrapping arms, legs, torso. She turns her head. A dull ache pounds.. Pounds. "Evan? Evan!" Her companion blinks, opposite her. Wrapped in the gauzy yet surprisingly strong material. _

_He grimaces, struggles. "Moira? Damn these webs are tight!"_

"A...a room," Moira said, voice straining with the effort of remembering. "Then we were in a room...dark..." She tried to concentrate on the disjointed images. Feelings.

_Dragged by Wraith drones to a small room. Thrown onto the floor like so much baggage. Darkness. Vines crawl on the walls. Wraith tech glimmers. "Why don't they feed on us?" she asks, moving sore but free limbs. _

"_Maybe we're the main course at the banquet," Evan suggests, trying to stand but failing. Pain. Unable to rise the pain keeps them on their knees._

"You're doing great, Moira," John encouraged. "What happened next? In that room?"

"I...I don't know..." She opened her eyes, touched her head. "The pain. Controlling pain. A sound. It was piercing, but not high pitched. A sound..." She clutched her head in memory or in renewed pain she couldn't tell.

John caught her before she fell off the bed. "Easy, easy, Moira. I'm right here. Keep going. You're safe here. I won't let anyone hurt you. What else? The Wraith? What did the Wraith want? What did the Wraith do?"

"Can't..." Her voice trailed off as images abruptly flooded.

_A Wraith queen circles, circles. Lowers her hand. The pain is gone instantly. Moira and Evan nearly fall flat with relief. "At last," the Wraith's voice coos, crawls over their skin, "we have waited a long time for a female." _

"_Didn't know you Wraith swung that way," Evan quips, only to hunch over as the piercing sounds drill into his skull. _

"_What do you want?" Moira shouts over the noise, the pain that suddenly sharpens to a fine, fine point. _

"_The gene," the Wraith answers, sounding surprised at the question. "The Ancients' magic gene. And you will provide all that we need."_

"She wanted the gene..." Moira stammered. "The ATA gene...then..." Moira hunched over, feeling sick, feeling pain, feeling horror all at once.

"Damn it!" John tapped his earpiece. "Carson! I need you here now! Moira's room!" He pulled Moira up to him. "Look at me, Moira! Look!"

"John..." Her brown eyes were huge, unfocussed but she blinked, blinked. Hands falling away from her head. The pain, the memories faded.

"Good. What else? They can't hurt you now, Moira. Can you remember what she did to you? Why she would want the gene? Try to remember."

"I..." Her vision turned inward.

"What did the Wraith do?" John asked, voice rising in earnest desperation. He almost shook her but restrained himself.

"Wraith." The word echoed in her mind. A silky whisper. She clutched her head again, doubled over as another wave hit. "No! No!"

"Moira, tell me!" John insisted, pushing. Desperate.

_The Wraith queen stops. Stares. Points. "You will start now. Produce the gene for us. To be used by us." _

"_How? We can't just pull it out of our cells!" Evan states angrily. _

"_Breed. You two will mate in our breeding program. Then we will harvest the results." Moira and Evan stare at each other in horror. Pain makes them fall writhing to the floor. "Begin!" the Wraith orders, sweeps out of the room. _

_The pain recedes. Moira claws her way to her knees. "It doesn't work like that! It won't–" Pain flares to refute her words. _

"_Moira! You–" Evan doubles over. Pain flares in pulsating waves. He can't think, can't see. He grabs Moira to him, kisses her, pushes her onto her back to fall upon her. The pain stops. The noise stops. "Sorry," he whispers in her ear, "I needed a minute without that pain." "Understood," she agrees, startled, moves as the pain leaves echoes in her head. "We can't–" "Obey me!" booms the Wraith. Pain. _

_Evan kisses her again, moves against her in imitation of intimacy. The pain stops. The noise stops. "Moira, I, I don't think we have a choice," he stammers. _

"_What?" she exclaims, pushes him aside. She sits, moves to her knees, gasps as another wave pulsates. _

_Evan moves to his knees, takes her hands as the pulse subsides. "It's this or death, Moira. We need to buy us more time to find a way out of here," he reasons. _

"_We can't!" Her refusal begins to trigger another piercing sound, another wave of pain. "Moira!" He pulls her against him. The pain draws back like a living thing. Waiting. "We can do this. Granted it's not how I would have approached it, but if we don't we'll die. Would sex with me be so terrible?" _

"_No, but...yes...I can't–" she stammers, embarrassed, stubborn. _

"_We're strong, Moira. We can get through this," he struggles to convince her, to speak as the pain intrudes. _

"_You don't understand, Evan!" she stammers, each word a fight, a struggle. "I'm seeing someone!" _

"_What?" he asks. Surprise abates the pain for a moment. _

"_Yes," she confirms. _

"_Who? Look, whoever it is will understand under these circumstances." _

"_No, he won't. Not with you," she insists, trying desperately not to name him. _

"_Not with me?" he demands, both insulted and flattered, but he doubles over with pain that clenches his muscles. _

_Moira hunches over as the pain screams along her body. "Because it's you!" she shouts. "Who?" he shouts, fighting. "Who wouldn't understand?" _

"_Because it's...it's..." Moira struggles, the name on her lips, finally forced out to make him understand, forced out by the pain shaking her body. "It's John! John Sheppard! John Sheppard!" The name is torn out of her, echoes along every nerve._

"Carson!" John bellowed, "get in here now! Moira!" John held her shaking form.

"Can't! I won't, I won't...forced...they forced...he forced...breeding...no no no no no no!"

"Moira!" Carson ran into the room as she started to convulse. Eyes unfocussed, glazed. "Moira, look at me! You don't have to remember! John, tell her! Tell her!" Carson ordered.

John caught Moira's face between his hands, turned her wide eyes to him. "Moira! That's enough! Don't remember! There's nothing else, nothing else to remember!" he ordered harshly, employing his best stern no-nonsense tone of voice that made recruits quake.

Moira blinked, froze, then slumped into his arms. Carson felt her pulse. "Put her on the bed. Now!"

John lifted her, gently laid her on the bed. "Is she–"

"Unconscious. The same as Evan, but she's worse. I told you not to press her, John! If you force it out of her you could very likely kill her!" Carson scolded angrily. Furious.

John shook his head. "I didn't mean to....I...she was remembering–"

"But too much too quickly! Her brain shut it out for a reason, John!" He checked her pulse again. "Steady. She's asleep. Leave her be."

"Carson...I didn't...I never..."

"I know," he sighed, cutting off John's guilty stammering. "Leave her be. When she wakes up don't press her. Don't you dare press her for anything!"

John nodded, gazing down at her sleeping form. He sighed, followed Carson out of the room. Guilt engulfing him. "I...I never meant to push...I mean...what did Lorne say?" he asked to change to subject. To bury his guilt.

"It was disjointed. Pretty much the same. A Wraith. The gene. Some kind of..." Carson broke off, shaking his head.

"Should we move them to the infirmary?" John asked.

"No. I'll be on call, all right. Sleep is what is best for both of them right now. All right?"

"And when they awaken?" John asked.

"When they awaken I suspect the dam will break, so to speak. The flood of memory could be quite traumatic. They could recover all, or some, or not remember any of this. Only time will tell. And then we can deal with the aftermath, whatever that may be."

**********************************************************************

_The Wraith's voice grates. "The female is strong."_

"_She can be forced," another Wraith voice. Female._

"_The male?" the first Wraith inquires._

"_He wants to survive. For her to survive," the second explains._

_Moira blinks. She is sprawled on the floor. Painfully moves to her knees. "Evan?" she croaks, trying to see in the darkness, the dimness._

_Evan moves to his knees, blinking. "Moira. I can't...I can't focus..." Blood is on his torn shirt and he stares down at it, uncomprehending._

"_Did they feed?" she asks, checking but there is no blood on her. No marks._

"_No. I bit my lip," Evan realizes. A raw cut on his lower lip bleeds. "Moira, we have to have sex. Or die." He tries to add something, a joke, a smile, but is too taut with pain to succeed._

"_No. I won't betray him," she stubbornly insists. Feels a wave of tears, of terror._

"_Who? They guy you're seeing. He won't mind under these–" he repeats, for the life of him not remembering the name._

"_Would you? I won't, Evan!" she refuses._

"_Even if it means our deaths?" he snaps back at her, angry. "Who the hell is it? Who? Who?"_

"_John!" she shouts back, almost defiant. "John Sheppard! John Sheppard!"_

_Pain floods, recedes. Blurring lines, times, conversations. Disjointed memories. Flashes. Unable to go beyond, to go further. _

"_You're a biologist, Moira. It's just sex," Evan insists, finds himself on his knees again, wonders how long he had been there. _

"_You don't understand! I'm seeing someone!" Moira states, pauses, wonders if she has had the same conversation before, can't remember. Only remembers that she is seeing someone._

"_This guy whoever he is will understand," Evan reasons, wonders who it is, can almost remember but the name eludes him._

"_No, because it is you!"_

"_Who? Who is he?"_

"_John Sheppard! John Sheppard!" Moira shouts, but out loud or in her head she can't tell._

"_Manipulate her. There!" a Wraith invokes. _

_Pain fluctuates and Moira falls to the floor, stares as John's image wavers before her. On his knees like Evan. Sexual memories flood her brain, her body. "John? John..." she whispers._

"_No! I won't do that to her! Not like this!" Evan struggles, realizing what the Wraith is doing to force her to accept. Feels sick at the very thought._

"_I'm a biologist!" Moira shouts, struggles to her knees. "This won't work!"_

"_As am I, human," the Wraith voice taunts. "We will harvest. Mate! Or he dies!" She flings her hand, an almost casual gesture, but Evan cries out. Body contorting in pain._

"_No! No! Then I'll kill myself and you'll lose your brood mare!" Moira threatens, torn._

"_Let me die, Moira," Evan croaks. _

_Evan is on his knees yet again. "Would sex with me be so terrible?"_

"_You don't understand!" Moira insists, yet again._

The anguished cry jolted John awake, propelled him out of the chair he had set up outside of Moira's room. He waved the door open, ran inside, heart nearly leaping out of his chest. Skidded to a halt near the bed. "Moira!"

Moira was kneeling on the bed, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Hair loose and wild. Brown eyes huge. Face pale. "John Sheppard. John Sheppard. John Sheppard." Repeating his name over and over, like a litany, a thread of sanity. A trigger.

John stared, frozen for a moment. Swallowed. "Moira?" he asked, voice gentle.

She took several gulping breaths, as if she had been drowning. Stopped moving. Met his startled gaze. "I can't...remember...John..." her voice trailed into wrenching silence. Her voice tore his heart with its utter despair. Tears filled her eyes. Then sobs erupted.

John stared, frozen now by the emotional outburst. Uncertain, awkward. Uncomfortable. Finally jolted he rushed to her side, slid onto the bed. Tapped his earpiece. "Carson! I need you now! Moira!" Helpless he added, "The dam has burst! The dam burst!" He pulled her into his arms, stroked her back as her body shook with every sob, every stuttering breath. "Moira, Moira, I'm here," he tried to soothe.

"I can't remember, I can't remember, I can't remember," she stammered, between sobs, between deep breaths. "I can't! Oh John, John will never forgive me! I can't! I oh John, John will never forgive me! If I have to...what is the harvest? The harvest!"she babbled.

"Moira, tell me," he spoke low into her ear, having no clue what to do, what to say. "I'll forgive you anything, just calm down, calm down, sweetheart. Carson!" he shouted into the earpiece.

"Good Lord!" Carson ran into the room, neatly sidestepping the fallen chair across the threshold. He gently pulled Moira out of John's embrace. "Moira? Can you hear me?"

"Carson," she gasped, as if trying not to drown, "what is the harvest? What...breeding...she forced us...the pain, the pain, psychic abilities are stronger," she stammered, clutching his arm, anything to communicate, "they want the ATA gene to harvest...how..." She broke off, babbled again, "he forced me, he...no one...not John...no no no no no!"

"Hold her," Carson instructed, sliding a needle into her arm. "I've got to give her a sedative. Her heart is racing."

Moira's body tensed in John's arms, then relaxed. She breathed deeply. "I remember. I can't remember if, if we how we...you don't understand, I can't...John Sheppard. John Sheppard..." her words slurred. She fell against John's chest. Out cold.

Carson breathed a sigh of relief. "This is a good thing."

"A good thing?" John exclaimed. "How can this be a good thing? She was hysterical! What the hell was she talking about?"

"I have no idea. The memories flooded back, at least some of them."

"What happened to her, Carson?" John demanded, voice raw with anguish. "Why did she keep saying my name? And the rest...he forced..." John swallowed uneasily. Felt sick. Angry.

"Don't jump to any conclusions, John," the doctor warned. "She could have been talking about anyone, or anything. We just don't know yet." He stood. "Bring her to the infirmary. I want to keep an eye on her."

John stood, lifted Moira's unconscious form in his arms. Followed Carson.

**************************************************************************

Moira stirred. Swallowed round a dry mouth, raw throat. She shifted in the infirmary bed. Opened her eyes. Woke. Sat up quickly, tried to move.

"Here, love." Carson handed her a cup of water. "Easy now. You're safe."

Moira took the cup, drank greedily. Stared round. Met Carson's concerned gaze. "Where?" she finally managed a word.

"John?" the doctor guessed. "I finally sent him to bed. He wanted to stay but I insisted."

Moira blinked, forced back a wave of tears. "Evan?"

Carson eyed her. "In his room. Had a similar break, but not as intense as yours, love. Now," he patted her hand, pulling up a chair to sit close, "do you feel ready to talk about it?"

"I can only remember parts...up to a point..." She sighed, drank more water. Set the cup aside. "I need to talk. To Evan."

"First talk to me," Carson urged. He poured more water into the cup for her. "Can you remember what was done to you? I don't mean to press you, love, but all my scans, all the blood work came back with nothing."

"Nothing? Of course...they, she would want the breeding stock pure."

"Breeding stock?" Carson asked, alarmed.

"Then why can't I remember everything?"

"It could be a block, a psychic block put there by the Wraith."

She smiled shakily. "Carson, I know you don't believe that. Tell me what you really think."

"It could be, Moira," he insisted, reluctant. "You said yourself those Wraith were stronger, mentally stronger."

"Carson," she repeated, insisting.

He sighed. "I believe that whatever you endured was so...traumatic, so terrible you own mind shut it down. Refused to let you remember it."

She considered, drank some water. "I see."

"But it started to bleed through the cracks in your subconscious. Manifesting in your increasingly violent antagonism towards Evan. Although why it would manifest in that particular way I haven't a clue."

"I know. I..." She closed her eyes a moment. Opened them. "Carson..." Her eyes widened. "I shot him! Oh my God! I shot Evan! Is he–"

"You had every reason to shoot him," John agreed, walking over to join them. He was still wearing his rumpled clothes. Clothes he had obviously slept in as he tossed and turned in the few hours he had taken. He stared at Moira, relieved to see her calmer. Lucid.

"He's fine. You just grazed his arm," Carson soothed.

She breathed easier. "Good thing I'm a lousy shot."

"I'll teach you to be a better one," John promised. Serious. "How do you feel? Can you remember anything?"

Moira briefly met his gaze, looked at Carson. "I can only remember up to a point. That's why I need to talk to Evan."

"No."

She glanced at John again. His serious expression. His one word voiced firmly. Arms folded across his chest as he stared down at her. Worriedly. "I have to speak to him, John. He might be able to fill in the missing pieces I can't. I have to know what happened to us. To me. There are things I can't...remember that I have to remember..." She looked at the blankets, a blush warming her pale face. Uncomfortable.

"No," John repeated. "You are going no where near him. After what he tried to do you, after he forced..." John's terse words were only matched by his clenched fists, taut muscles.

"Forced? What?" she asked, puzzled. "He wasn't himself, John...when he choked me. I wasn't myself when I shot him. I have to know what–"

"Listen to her, John," Carson agreed. "She's fine. Lucid. No more hatred. Evan is the same. She needs to talk to him. Now."

John looked at Carson, frowned. "Are you serious? There's no way Moira is getting near–"

"John!" She sighed, abruptly moved to her feet. Clothing more rumpled than this. "I need to do this now. I can feel some details already slipping away from my mind." She looked at Carson who nodded. She stepped past them both. "Besides, I don't need your permission, colonel!" she snapped angrily.

"I never said you did!" John retorted. "I only wanted..." he sighed, exchanged a glance with Carson. "That's more like Moira, isn't it?"

"Absolutely, colonel," the doctor agreed.

Moira halted in front of Evan's door. Stared at the two marines standing guard. Frowned. Hands on her hips. "I need to speak to Evan! Major Lorne!" she corrected.

"Sorry, Doctor O'Meara. No one enters or leaves. Colonel Sheppard's orders," one marine informed her sternly.

"He's fine! Recovered like me. Let me through! I need to speak to him now!"

"I can't allow you to...sir?"

"Dismissed, Rogers, Elliot." John nodded. The two men nodded, retreated, casting curious glances back at the pair. John caught her hand before she could open the door, rapped his knuckles on it. "Major Lorne?"

The door opened. Evan stared, still clad in his messy clothes like Moira was. Like John was.

"Sir? Moira..." A host of emotions played across his face.

"Evan. We need to talk." She crossed the threshold, forcing him to back up into his room. She whirled, freeing her hand. Placed it on John's chest, halting him. "Privately."

John scowled, green eyes narrowing. "There is no way I am letting you–" he began heatedly, unable to help himself, unable to stop his glare from hitting Evan.

"John, please!" she urged, bringing his gaze back to her. "This is important! I'll be perfectly safe," she assured, fingers moving on his chest to push him towards the open door. Out of the room.

"Fine." His gaze moved to Evan again. Grew cold. "If I hear anything from Moira, or you say one insult, if you dare to touch her I will shoot you."

"Yes, sir. I wouldn't harm a hair on her head," Evan assured, flustered.

Moira closed the door. Turned to Evan. An awkward silence. She grabbed a chair, sat as he sat on the very edge of his bed. Moira stared at her hands. "How is the arm? I'm sorry I shot you."

"Moira, I...good God, Moira! I am so sorry! For what I did to you! The things I said! I tried to...I could have...I would shoot myself before ever hurting you like that!"

She met his anguished face. Sincerity. "It wasn't you, Evan. Not the real you. And it wasn't me. Not really." She looked at her hands again. "It's what the, the Wraith did. To us."

"Yes. But still...if I had...if I had..." Evan couldn't complete the sentence. Appalled at his own conduct. The vilifying hatred. The assault.

"You didn't." She met his uneasy gaze again. Clasped her hands together tightly, steeling herself. Knowing that John was just right outside the door, would barge in if she needed him. "I need to know. I need to know what you remember. I mean..." She hastily corrected, "what you remember up to...I remember the village, the welcome feast..."

"The tour," he supplied, thinking. "The cornfield. The cows."

"The cows," she agreed. "The temple. The temple? I just remembered that!"

"Yeah, we were taken to a temple, I remember now. Wraith worshipers." Evan frowned, rubbed his temple. "They were chanting. We were shot. Stunned! Then woke up in a room."

"The room." She stood suddenly, turned away from him. Tears threatened. "After, after that...no wait." She took a deep breath, released it. Turned to him. "Evan, can you..." She glanced at the door. Could almost feel John standing outside it. Against it. She gestured Evan to go further into his room, away from the door. He nodded, stood, circled round the bed.

"Moira?" John called, moving to stare at the door. "Are you–"

"Fine, John!" she called before he opened the door. "I'm fine! Almost done...we're just trying to remember." She followed after Evan, stood apart from him, whispered, "Can you remember the, the room? What we...what happened there?"

"Yes. Some. It's disjointed...but yes...to a point." He eyed the floor suddenly.

She nodded. Hugged herself. "Okay. Okay."

He hesitated, asked, "Moira, did we...I mean...I can't quite...did we...did I?" He stared at the wall, uneasy. Embarrassed.

"I can't remember. I don't know. I..." she stammered. "I can't...listen, beyond, beyond that I don't remember anything. The next thing is...blurred. A Wraith queen. Maybe two. The, the harvest. What is the harvest?"

"The harvest?" he asked, pulling his mind from the tortured images. Pain. Kissing. Dialogue of sex. The gene. "The only harvest I recall is the head man commenting on their crops."

"No. I remember that too...but this...this was another..." She shivered suddenly, slammed her palm on the table. "Damn it! I need to remember!"

"Moira!" John flew into the room, pulling his gun in a smooth motion. "Get away from her now!" he ordered.

"Colonel!" Evan raised his hands.

Moira whirled. "No! John, no! It was me. I didn't mean... I was frustrated so I hit the table! Please, it was nothing!" She moved to him, touched his upraised arm with the gun sited on Evan. Gently lowered it. "Five more minutes, please."

John met her gaze, slowly holstered his weapon. "Five." He looked at Evan. His expression giving all the threat he needed. He exited.

As the door closed Moira turned back to her team leader. "Sorry. Sorry, he's–"

"I don't blame him, Moira, after what I tried to do to you. I guess he..oh. Oh!" Realization at the reason for the colonel's excessive anger and protectiveness hit him.

"Evan, I have to know. I have to remember."

"How did we escape?" he asked, shoving that startling fact aside. "Can you remember that? I mean, I can't. But we must have escaped, right? Or, or–"

"Or they let us go," she suggested suddenly.

"Which means they, she, their experiment was a success...since..."

"Or not. Or not, we...she sent us back..." Moira frowned, rubbed her brow. "Damn! It's just there on the edge of my mind. I don't know how to release it!"

"Neither do I." He took a tentative step towards her. "Moira, if we...if we... I mean...it wasn't our fault if we..what we did, to stay alive."

"No." She dropped her hands to her sides. Met his uncertain gaze. "No. We have to know. For certain. I have to know for certain."

"Four minutes!" John called through the door. Glaring at the solid barrier. He banged his fist on the door for emphasis.

"Okay, John! We have to go back, Evan."

"Go back?" Evan stared at her, shocked. "Are you crazy, Moira? There's no way they'll let us go back there! I don't want to go back there."

"But it's the only way, don't you see? It's the only way to unlock our minds. Carson says we're doing it to ourselves so we need to undo this," she argued quickly.

"Three minutes!" John called through the door. Impatiently shifting his weight foot to foot.

"Okay...I guess. Especially if Carson is right then we must. But no one else will agree to this, Moira. Sheppard will never agree. Never! Nor will Weir or–"

"It's the only way, Evan! We have to–"

"Two!" John called, hand hovering over the access panel. He could only hear scattered words.

"I'll convince John. He can convince Weir. Trust me!"

"How are you ever going to convince Colonel Sheppard that...oh. Oh!" His eyes widened in realization yet again. Assessment.

"Be in the 'Gate room in ten minutes. Please, Evan! We're going one way or another!" She whirled, nearly ran to the door, waved it open just as John was about to do it. "One." She glanced back at Evan, stepped across the threshold. "He's normal again, John. But he has gaps in his memory too. Like me." She took his arm suddenly. Led him quickly into her room.

"Moira?" he asked, concerned. She seemed upset, out of breath, anxious.

Moira freed his arm, turned to face him. "John." She debated how to proceed. "We need to go back. Evan and I. To that planet." Seeing his surprised reaction, instant denial coming to his lips she forestalled him. "Hear me out, please. It's the only way to finish this. To find out exactly what happened. What happened to us. I have to know, John. I have to know..." She felt a wave of tears, forced them back. "It's the only way to recover our memories. All of them. However, however horrible or, or traumatic they might be."

"Moira," John said slowly. "No. I cannot allow you to–"

"Listen to me, John. I know I'm asking a lot. Putting ourselves and whomever you send with us at risk. I wouldn't ask it if it wasn't important." She took a deep breath, released it. Touched his arm. "I have to know. Even if it's bad I have to know. The last thing I want is to do is to place anyone in danger. You should send a team with us who lacks the ATA gene. No, we should go alone."

"Hell no. Moira, you think I'm going to let you go back to a planet full of Wraith worshipers and some insane Wraith queen conducting God knows what kind of genetic experiments? Your memory will return in time and then...when it does...we can deal with it," he said. Suddenly uncomfortable he glanced round the room.

"No, John. It's slipping now. I can't lose it. I have to know now. So does Evan. I won't be able to function if I don't know what happened to me, to us." She looked at the floor. "I have to know or I can't...I can't live a lie, not knowing if...I would rather let this...this darkness eat away at me then put you in any danger, anyone in danger but I..." She hesitated, winced but blurted, "The way I feel about you, John, I have to know what happened...please." She finally met his gaze, uncertain. Scared. Adamant. Declarations hovering on her lips but unsaid. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

John was silent, considering, emotions vying with reason. Reacting to her words, her needs. Her fears. Her uncertain declaration not surprising him but startling him all the same to hear it out loud. To hear the other word just hovering on the air, unspoken. He touched her hand still on his arm. Wrapped his fingers around hers. "Let me talk to Weir. Prep in ten," he finally said, voice thick with unspoken emotions.

She visibly relaxed. Stepped close to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

Genetic Drift4

John strode down the hallway, fingers folding into his palm, still feeling the press of Moira's. Her earnest, desperate words. The emotions. The pain. The trust. Passions normally under control racing. Thoughts scattering one after the other. He calmed himself, climbed the stairs and stepped into Elizabeth's office. Coughed to get her attention. "Hey. We need to go back," he announced without preamble.

Elizabeth looked at him, taking a moment to decipher his meaning. "Excuse me?"

"We need to go back. To that planet. Moira and Lorne need to recover their full memories. Now. Before it tears them apart. I can't have a team hampered by a hidden time bomb that could go off at any moment. Especially off-world. It would compromise them, their teammates, the mission, maybe even Atlantis," he argued smoothly, realizing it was the truth.

"I'm sorry, John, but no. We can't risk losing any more people to those experiments. Especially as they are targeting ATA gene carriers. Like yourself. Like McKay. I won't send a team, any team to a planet full of Wraith worshipers and a Wraith queen conducting experiments on humans. On our own people."

John smiled briefly, hearing his own argument thrown back at him. Moira would have appreciated the irony. Picturing her distress, her trust his smile faded. "We don't have a choice, Elizabeth. We have to know what happened as well as they do. To guard against any future experimentation. I'm taking Ronon and Teyla. And I will need McKay. Once we find the Wraith area I will need his skills to deactivate any devices. We'll be back ASAP."

"John," Elizabeth stood, hands on her desk, "I can't allow–"

"We need to do this, Elizabeth. For them. You know it. Consider it a personal favor to me. Please."

Elizabeth stared at his earnest expression, his absolute gravity. "All right...but if you're not back in one hour–"

"Consider us compromised and lock the address," John finished for her. "We go in ten. I'll get the team." He headed out, turned back. "Thanks."

*************************************************************************

Moira stood nervously, in clean clothes, waiting in the 'Gate room. She watched Evan head towards her, stop a few inches awkwardly from her.

"Well...let's hope it's not deja vu," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Let's hope not,"she sincerely agreed. "Carson?" She stared as the doctor approached.

"Don't argue, Moira. Did you really think I was going to let my patients return and possibly suffer a violent episode without my supervision?" He shook his head at them. Then his finger. "I don't like this, but I do see the necessity."

"Carson, you can't go! They are targeting people with the ATA gene!" she exclaimed. "You–"

"He's going and that's final," John said, leading his team to the 'Gate. "Sargent, dial it up!" The chevrons began to glow blue, one by one.

"Colonel Sheppard, you can't allow Doctor McKay to go either!" Evan stated. "For the same reason!"

"As much as I would like to agree with you, major, we may need him when we encounter Wraith tech and–"

"You know, that's really not my exact speciality," Rodney offered. "Zelenka would be more–"

"Are you suggesting that Zelenka is more qualified than you are?" John tested, knowing full well the answer and response.

"Well, no, of course not! I just...oh clever. Very clever," Rodney glowered.

Moira shook her head. "Only Evan and I need to go, colonel! We can't risk all these other people! Just, just let us have Ronon, in case we need help."

"Fine by me," Ronon agreed, nodding.

"No. We all know the terrain, know what we're going against. Everyone here is necessary–"

"Exactly, John!" she argued. "That is my point! We can't risk all of these people who will be specifically targeted! John, you most of all! You will be targeted because–"

"Of my ineffable charm, I know," he sighed, deflecting her concern, her worry, "but I'll take the risk. Let's go. We have one hour, and one hour only." The wormhole shimmered into being, casting ripples of light upon them. "Ronon, on point. Teyla, the six. You three in the middle, ahead of me. Go."

*************************************************************************

The rolling meadows looked peaceful. Green grass. Blue sky. A gentle breeze blew. The air was comfortable. "Did you feel anything, Carson? Just now?" Rodney tested, running his hands over his body again. "As we went through the 'Gate?"

"Aye...now that you mention it...a little tingle actually."

"You've been scanned. As a gene carrier." Rodney's proud announcement gave way to worry as he realized the import. "And that is not a good thing here."

"If they know we're here where is the welcoming committee?" Carson asked.

"There wasn't one. We met them in the village," John explained. "Let's go. Head out. Major Lorne, take the lead. Moira, you too. Guide us to that...temple."

Moira and Evan glanced at each other, began to lead the team.

"Teyla, anything?" John asked, eyes everywhere as he studied every tree, every brush, every motion of the wind on the grass. The gait of Evan and Moira ahead of him.

"No. I do not sense the Wraith. But I did not sense them before we reached the crops."

"Rodney?"

"Nothing, just like before," the scientist sighed. "Hmm."

"Hmm?" Carson inquired.

"That's odd. No life signs. Yet."

John held up his hand, halting them. Moved ahead of Evan and Moira. The village was empty., Eerily empty. Quiet. Even the fountain had ceased to bubble. Stood silently. The pink flowers floated listlessly on the still waters.

"Where is everyone?" asked Teyla.

"Probably worshiping their Wraith," Ronon darkly noted. Clasped his gun securely.

"They greeted us before. Oh." John turned, hefted his P90 as the head man approached. Smiled. Seemed completely unperturbed.

"Greetings, friends. You are dressed as our first visitors were. Do you come from the same village?"

"Uh...you said that the last time," John replied, brows furrowing in puzzlement.

"Your friends suggested a trade agreement. Our crops and corn for better land tillers and medical supplies. Are you here to ratify the accord?"

"Okay, this is just weird. Don't you remember saying this before? Uh, Rodney," John prompted.

"The only life signs are ours," Rodney stated. Looked up in astonishment. "Wow."

"What?" Teyla circled. "He looks real! Sounds real!"

"Let's see about that." Ronon reached out to touch the man. His hand went right through him, rippling the image. "What the–"

"It's a simulacrum! Why didn't I realize this?" Rodney berated himself.

"A simulacrum?" John asked, circling the figure as well.

"Yes! A virtual realization of an actual image, implanted in our minds by the scan at the 'Gate! Of course! To our minds it appeared completely real, completely animate!"

"Enforced by the Wraith's uncanny mind powers," Carson added. Shook his head.

"If it is not real why does it remain?" Teyla asked.

"Of course!" The man clapped his hands. "Bring our new friends a welcome feast!"

"Can you turn him off? I hate re-runs," John complained.

"Hang on...I think I can. Here...I can detect the scan so I can modify the subsonic signal to–"

Rodney adjusted his scanner.

"We have been fortunate this last year," the man continued. "The Wraith have not." He vanished.

As did the buildings. Leaving ruins. Piles of stones. As did the green grasses. Leaving stubbled ground, untilled for years.

"Turned off! I just interrupted the...oh." Rodney looked around. "Wow."

"It was so realistic! How could they hold those images in our minds for so long?" Teyla wondered, staring round.

"The temple is this way. At least it was. It seemed real enough," Evan commented. He led them across a burned field. Boots trampling ash and charred plants. Moira followed, staring round.

"Look. The crops are gone too," Ronon commented.

"As are the sheep. And the cows," Teyla agreed. "It was all an illusion."

"But not the temple," Evan said. Paused, pointed. The structure loomed out of the ground. Jagged, triangular in shape. An ugly building, disjointed, built of stones and bricks. An opening yawned darkly.

"We didn't see that on our first trip here. Has it changed at all?" John asked, stepping next to Moira. Alarmed at her silence.

"No, sir. It looks the same." Evan was staring uneasily.

"Moira?" John prompted.

But Evan answered. "They stunned us here. I remember. Took us there. I'm sure those people were real. Not holograms."

"Subsonic transmissions, actually," Rodney corrected. "No life signs yet. No Wraith either."

"I do not sense them either," Teyla confirmed.

"Great. Let's move out. Same as before. Go." John decided. Glanced at Moira.

Quickly they crossed the field, entered the temple. The long room was empty. An altar stood, a great slab of stone. Brown stains revealed dark deeds. Beyond a flight of stairs led downwards, until reaching a wall. Straps hung from the ceiling. Manacles. A vivid stone carving of a Wraith loomed.

Moira moved to the altar, touched it. She closed her eyes. "Here. It was here. Through here." She touched her head, moved to the head of the stairs. "The lab."

"The lab," Evan echoed, wincing at recalled pain. He joined her at the stairwell. "The samples. Samples of human tissue."

"We have to get in there," Carson agreed.

"Whoa, wait!" John caught Moira's arm before she proceeded down the stairs. "Rodney, can you open that wall?"

"Of course. Oh." He moved past them, down the steps. Touched the wall. Ran his fingers along until he pried open a panel. He pulled some crystals, tapped the buttons. "Here. Ronon, would you like to do the honors?" he asked, stepping back up the stairs as the wall slid aside.

Ronon smiled. "Yes." He led them down the steps. Winding into the gloom. Intermittent light flickered from sporadic orbs set into the walls. They entered a large room. Niches were carved along the walls holding jars. Jars of specimens. Tanks of water bubbled. Equipment lined one wall. Long surgical instruments glinted.

"The lab," Carson needlessly announced. He moved to examine the strange things in the jars. "These are...animal embryos...different kinds..."

Moira and Evan crossed to another door, halted. "The, the room," she whispered, touching his arm. Drawing back to touch her head as remembered pain flared. Was gone. "The room is there, right?"

"The room...I can almost remember the room, the..." Evan sank to his knees, doubling over in sudden, real pain.

"Carson!" John called, moving to them.

Moira sank to her knees, holding her head. "No! It's the memory...just the memory!"

"Let it come, Moira, Evan. Let it come and the pain will pass," Carson urged, looking from one to the other. "Don't fight it. Don't fight against it!"

John turned. "Ronon, Teyla, go back up and watch our backs. Rodney, go with them."

"Where are you, Evan?" Moira asked, voice strained. "The, the room?"

"Yes, the room!"

"Go past it! To the end...the unseen point afterwards, force your mind!" Moira urged through gritted teeth, moaned.

"Can't! Trying," Evan grimaced, forcing himself to remember, to ignore the pain, the mental block in his head he struggled to get past.

"_I'm a biologist! This won't work!" Moira cries, struggling past the pain._

"_So am I," the Wraith queen cackles. "We will harvest. Mate, or he dies!"_

_Moira flings herself over Evan's contorted body. "No! No! Then I will kill myself and you will lose your brood mare!"_

"_Let me die, Moira," Evan insists, sick at the thought of what the Wraith want._

"_No!" Moira is flung off him by unseen hands. She lands hard on her back, knocking the breath out of her._

"_Such obstinance! I have never had such trouble breeding humans before," the Wraith complains. "Is this easier?" _

_Moira rolls over. Pain blurs her vision. When it clears she stares at Evan, on his knees. Except now John was there, in the same position. "John?" she croaks weakly. A rush of sexual memories floods her body, her senses, nearly overwhelms her._

"_No! It's me, Evan..." Evan stammers, realizing what the Wraith is doing. Appalled. "No! I won't do that to her! I'd rather die! No!" Evan lurches to his feet, defiant, determined, but the Wraith knocks him back easily._

_Moira struggles to her knees as the image wavers. John. Evan. John. Evan. "Evan..." she whispers, fighting the impulse, the longing, the need._

"_The one I pulled from her mind. The same one that has the strongest gene. The one who was here before, but escaped. John Sheppard," the Wraith's voice slows, grating over his name._

"_She will mate with him," another Wraith agrees._

"_The harvest will be strong, stronger."_

"_Bring him to us."_

"_Bring him to us!"_

"John Sheppard. John Sheppard. John Sheppard," Evan and Moira said in unison, on their knees. Trapped in the memory, in the trigger of a name. A command. A summons.

John stared, grip on his P90 tightening. He looked around uneasily. "Not again. That is creepy. Way too creepy. Doc?"

"Moira! Evan!" Carson snapped, clapped his hands. "It's a trigger. An autonomous device to control them, their minds!"

Moira gasped. Evan gulped. They blinked, stared at each other. Breathing deeply as the pain receded. Memories flooding back in full now.

"We...we didn't," she said, relieved.

"Not then," Evan agreed, still uncertain.

"That's how we escaped! We didn't escape. They let us go!" Moira realized.

"To bring in new breeding stock–"

"To complete the experiment."

They stood, turned as one. "John! John, you have to get out of here now!" Moira exclaimed, horror on her face. "Now! And Carson!"

"She's right, sir. You are specifically targeted," Evan agreed.

"You are strong in the Force, John," she weakly jested, causing a smile, a warmth to fill John's eyes as he watched her.

"Fine by me," John agreed. "Let's–"

"Wait!" Moira looked round at the room, as if noticing its horrors for the first time. "I still don't know what the harvest is. I have to know."

"We don't have time–" John began to argue.

"I think I know, Moira," Carson said, touching her arm. "Trust me, you don't want to remember any of that."

"Sheppard! We've got movement! On the ridge!" Ronon shouted.

"I have to know, Carson! I..." She whirled, touched the wall. Smelled a sickly sweet odor that sent a shiver down her spine. "I have to remember..." she strained.

"Don't force it," Carson advised, but Moira fell to her knees, wincing.

"Damn it! We have to go, now!" John argued, not knowing what to do.

"You have to get out of here, sir!" Evan urged. A weird noise pulsed. Just below hearing range but could be felt along their nerves, their muscles.

"Colonel! I sense the Wraith!" Teyla called over the radio until it crackled with static.

John winced, covering his ears as the noise grew more audible. Carson leaned against the table. "We have to get out of here now!" he shouted, about to grab Moira but she shook her head.

"Go! Go! I need this!" She held up her hand, fingers splayed.

"What's that?" Evan asked, shoulders hunched against the increasing vibration in his bones.

"Five? Five minutes! Then we go!" John interpreted, clutching his gun. He looked round the room, searching for the source of the awful noise.

Moira was on her hands and knees, eyes shut tightly as the pain skipped along her body. But also unblocked her mind, her memory.

_Moira kneels over Evan's semi-conscious form. "This won't work! You can't breed humans like animals! Are you really going to wait nine months for your experiments?"_

"_No. We do not need a living, fully-developed offspring. Only the genetic material to fuse with our own. You will mate, become impregnated, then the fetus will be harvested when it achieves the full genetic code. Then you will mate again. And again. Each harvest will be more ATA genes for us. Once we have enough of the male we will feed upon him. Except for the strong one. Him we will harvest repeatedly until he dies."_

Moira jerked, fell to the floor. Held in the scream. Forced back the bile. She became aware of her surroundings. The lab. The room. The piercing, subsonic pulse wracking her. It stopped suddenly as a hail of gunfire erupted above her.

"Sheppard! I've got it switched off but it's only temporary!" Rodney shouted into the radio.

"Understood!" John shouted into his radio, relaxing his stance, his hold as the noise faded ,the pain faded. He approached Moira as she moved to her feet. "Moira?"

Moira turned to him, swallowed. Her eyes were wide, face pale. Horror glinted, then a sorrow, a wash of warm concern almost palpable hit him. "Give me a gun," she said tersely. Anger.

"I...I don't think that's a good–" Carson began to caution worriedly, half suspecting what she had just remembered.

John wordlessly handed her his 9mm, sliding it out of his holster. He turned. "Let's go, now! Rodney, we're heading up to you!"

"Copy! Hurry!" Rodney's voice shouted.

"Moira!"

John whirled at Carson's shout. Moira had sprinted across the lab, opened another door. Was gone. "Crap! Join the others, now! All of you! Ronon," John barked into his radio, "Beckett and Lorne are on the way! Advance to the ridge, then the 'Gate!"

"What about you and–"

"We'll follow! That's an order, Lorne! Go!" John sprinted after Moira, cursing in his head.

Carson and Evan exchanged a glance, then ran out of the lab, up the stairs. Towards Ronon who was standing at the doorway, scrutinizing the ridge, the odds.

"Let's go! Where are Sheppard and Moira?"

"He went after her! Down in–"

Carson's words were broken by the resumption of the piercing noise.

"Come on! The Wraith are close! Below us!" Teyla shouted, appearing from the other side of the room. She herded the scientists into a run out of the building. "Ronon?"

"I'll go get them! Go, to the ridge!" Ronon headed back into the temple as Teyla led the rest at a run towards safer, higher ground.

Evan sped ahead of the rest, swinging his P90 in his grip as he reached the ridge, hastily backed down into a crouch, motioned the others to do likewise as they reached him. "We've got company," he warned. Groups of people were walking towards them. All smiling.

"Oh, that's just the simulacrum," Rodney reasoned, peering over the ridge to view the villagers.

"Let me turn if off again. It's just a simple adjustment to interrupt the programming." He fiddled with his scanner. "Now?"

"No," Carson said, watching as the people moved in a line. Closer. All smiles. Men. Women. Even a few children. Eerily silent.

"At least we cannot hear that pulse. But the Wraith are near," Teyla warned. "Their power is very great. More than I have felt before. They have a way to shield themselves from me until they are very close."

"Because it is a queen," Carson explained. "Which is unusual in itself, isn't it? To find a queen on a planet, not on a hive ship."

"Yes," Teyla agreed. "That is most unusual."

"Now?" Rodney sighed as Evan shook his head. "Now? Well, it's just a simulacrum! We can walk right through them and–"

A very real bullet struck the grass near his head. Then a blast of a laser. "Down! I thought you said they were illusions?" Evan shouted.

"They were! The ones in the village were! There!" Rodney scrambled with the controls. Carson yanked him down as another bullet flew.

"These are real enough! What do we do?" Carson asked.

"For now. Hold the line. We wait for Colonel Sheppard and the rest," Evan decided. "Let's lay ground cover. That should hold them off for a little while."

"And then?" Rodney asked, glancing back at the temple. "Don't forget the Wraith are behind us!"

"Below us," Teyla corrected, aiming carefully to spray the ground with bullets.

"One thing at a time, McKay!" Evan grumbled.


	5. Chapter 5

Genetic Drift5

"Moira!" John called, catching sight of her rounding a corner. He sped up but just caught himself before he slammed into a wall. A closed door. He shoved his palm against the controls t open it, staring through the rectangular opening that was shielded by a heavy piece of glass. Moira shot the panel on the other side to refuse him entry. "No!" He watched her turn, advance.

Saw a figure emerge from the shadows. A tall, female form with flowing white hair. Pallid, greenish skin marked with slits on the cheeks. A horrible smile. A Wraith queen. "Shit! Shit, no! No!" Then the pulse started and he doubled over as pain exploded.

Moira lifted the gun, elbows bent, stance with legs slightly apart. "Say goodbye, bitch," she hissed. Then the pulse hit. Moira staggered, trying to keep her focus, her balance. To keep her feet under her as the pain rippled along her body.

Ronon ran through the temple, down the stairs, across the lab. "Sheppard!" he bellowed. Then the pulse hit. Knocking him sideways as he staggered into a wall, gritting his teeth as the pain washed over every nerve of his body.

The Wraith smiled, a hideous parody of a pleased expression. "Good. Good! You have brought him to us. First we will feed upon him to make him compliant. Then you will mate."

"You'll never touch him!" Moira snarled, but her knees buckled under her.

"Moira!" John shouted. He stepped back, fired his P90 into the panel. Sparks flew. Crystals shattered into a million pieces. But the door held. "Damn it! No! Not like this!" he shouted, firing at the door, at the window recess. The glass held. He fired at the panel. The door opened a few inches. Froze again.

The Wraith stepped closer to her, unafraid. Unconcerned. Held out a hand. Trying to force Moira to her knees. "You will do as I command. Then we will feed. Such defiance will be doubly sweet to feed upon."

The sound of gunfire, of John's shouting voice made the Wraith look over at the door for a moment. It was all that Moira needed. She pushed herself back to a standing position, fired. Fired. The queen staggered with the bullets hitting her. But still stood, still smiled. Moira stared, but kept firing.

John shoved with all of his might, grunting with the strain of both pushing the door and the pulsing reverberations along every nerve. He half fell, half ran through the opening, squeezing his body through the narrow gap. He swung his gun to fire. Slowed to walk.

Moira was still firing but the gun was out of ammunition. The pulse abruptly stopped. The only sound was the empty clicking of the trigger. The gasping wheezes of the Wraith sprawled on the floor. John stepped to Moira's side, looked down at the queen.

"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted, finding he could move again, could think. He ran to the door, shoved it open with a tremendous push. He ran into the room.

John held up his hand, halting the Satedan. The Wraith queen's body writhed. Still alive. Her eyes opened. Her mouth moved but no words were audible. "That's not enough," John said gently. "You need more firepower." He took the gun from her hands, prying her fingers off the trigger, the handle. Replaced it with his P90. He positioned her hands upon it. "Use this to–"

His words were barely out of his mouth when she resumed shooting.

John replaced the clip in the 9mm, holstered it. Silence fell as the P90 was emptied into the Wraith. A few more empty clicks, then complete silence. John waited until Moira's finger had stopped on the trigger. He eyed the now mangled corpse of the queen. Blood pooling under it, upon it. A grisly mess of flesh and bone. John took the P90 from her hands, reloaded it.

Ronon stood watching, impressed. "You chose one hell of a woman," he commented. Approval in his voice.

John turned to him. "Status?"

"Pinned down at the ridge. Taking some fire."

"Sheppard!" Rodney's voice shouted over the radio. "We're under attack! Where the–" Gunfire broke into his words, cut the transmission.

"On our way, Rodney! Hold your twenty! Ronon, grab the C4 in my pack, out there! We're going to blow this abomination to hell."

Ronon grinned. "Sounds like a plan." He whirled to get the explosives.

"John..." Moira's limbs finally unfroze. She stared at the dead, bloodied Wraith at her feet. Slowly, slowly turned to him, shocked.

"Moira." He caught her as she flung herself against him, suppressing a sob, a shudder. "I need you to be strong now, Moira. You need to be strong so we can get out of here, sweetheart. I know you can do this. Hold it together, okay?" he murmured into her ear.

She pulled back from him, tried to smile. "Sweetheart?"

He smiled, freed her as Ronon returned, tossed him some C4. John caught the bars. "Place it at strategic points. There. There," he pointed. "Set for five minutes."

"Five? That's not a lot of time," Ronon noted, moving round to place the explosives.

John did the same. "Then we'll have to run. No time to stop at the souvenir shop."

"She okay?" Ronon asked, glancing at Moira. Her frozen stance, stare at nothing.

"She's fine. Okay, let's get the hell out of here. Moira." He took her hand, pulled her.

Breaking into a run they crossed the room. Ran along the corridors, up the stairs.

"Three! Let's go!" John urged. They ran out of the temple towards the ridge.

"Shep–" Rodney shouted, catching sight of them.

"Two! The temple's going to blow! We can use the distraction to escape! Veer left, then straight for the village and the 'Gate!" John ordered as they reached the others. "Teyla, Ronon, flank. Lorne, take point! Scientists in the middle ahead of me! Shoot to kill!"

"What? Those are still people, colonel," Carson objected.

"They are Wraith worshipers," Ronon growled.

"One. Down," John said calmly.

Explosions ripped the ground. Like an earthquake the land rumbled, then the temple blew skyward. Chunks of earth and rock and equipment flew in a wide arc, straight up, then straight down. Bombarding the ridge and the fields.

"Go, go!" John ordered as the crowd let out a simultaneous moan.

The team ran, dodging in a swerving arc towards the village. Teyla and Evan were shooting their P90s as cover fire for the rest. Many of the villagers fell back. More surged forward, returning fire. Bullets flew. Lasers singed the air, the grass.

"Ow!" A blast singed past Rodney, barely missing him.

Ronon fired his big gun, taking down many. John kept firing, running alongside the civilians, trying to shield them as best he could. "I said shoot to kill! That's an order!" he shouted as Evan and Teyla were creating a line of fire to hinder the enemy, not firing directly into them.

"Yes, sir!" Evan raised his weapon to hit the crowd surging around them. Teyla did the same with noted reluctance. Reaching the village they found it deserted.

"Go, go!" Ronon whirled, covering their retreat, crouching behind the fountain.

"Teyla, dial the DHD! Go!" John shouted, skidding to a halt farther along, firing to cover them. "Ronon, go!"

The big man ran under covering fire to John's side. "Those are Wraith stunners!"

"Yeah. They want us alive." A bullet pinged the wall. "Not you, though."

"Nice!" Ronon grunted.

"Dialing! IDC! We're good to go!" Teyla shouted over the radio. Herding the scientists into the wormhole as it shimmered.

Suddenly the head man simulacrum appeared and began its speech. John stood, shot through it more out of annoyance than any actual hope it would stop the program. "I hate re-runs. Let's go!" He ran with Ronon towards the Stargate.

"Go!" Ronon shot his gun as John entered the wormhole, then leapt backwards to follow him...

...and landed on his butt as the wormhole shut down. The Iris closed. "That was close. Ow."

Teyla laughed. "Nice landing."

"You two. The infirmary. Now!" Carson ordered, herding Moira and Evan to the medical bay.

Elizabeth shook her head, hands on hips as John hauled Ronon to his feet, smirked at the Satedan's graceful entrance. "Well?"

"The whole thing was an illusion! I mean, the village, the head man, the crops, the cattle! Quite remarkable, really!" Rodney enthused, shaking the dirt off his jacket. "A generated subsonic pulse creating a very realistic hologram to–"

"Pain. Damn that thing hurt," John complained, rubbing his temple. "And those worshipers were real enough. We blew the temple and the lab sky high."

"All right. We'll debrief shortly. What about Moira and Evan?"

"They recovered their memories," John answered. "Both should be fine now."

"And did they remember what happened to them?" Elizabeth asked.

"Not in so many words, no. But I think Carson knows some of it. Whatever experiments the Wraith were conducting they were not pleasant," Rodney remarked.

**************************************************************************

John entered the infirmary. It was empty. He strolled through it, saw the doors to the private examining rooms closed. "Carson?" he called.

Carson stepped out of one. Stark white lab coat over his clothing. "Colonel?"

"Where's–"

"They both are having complete physicals. The old-fashioned way. I'm tending to Evan and I have Sara taking care of Moira. Come back in an hour."

"Oh." John glanced at the doors again. "Are they okay?"

"I believe so. That's what I'm trying to determine. Now shoo." Carson gestured, returned to the private room.

John sighed. Stared at the closed doors. Worrying. Wondering.

*************************************************************************

Evan sat on one of the infirmary beds, lacing and unlacing his fingers as he waited. Finally watched as Moira stepped out of one of the private rooms. She glanced at him, sat on an opposite bed. An awkward silence followed. Extended. Awkward glances were exchanged.

Finally Evan asked, "You okay?"

"Yes. You?"

"Yes." Another lengthy silence. Eyes moving around the room. Looking at everything but each other. Waiting. "So..." Evan blurted at last, "you and the colonel?"

She met his gaze, narrowed her eyes in warning. "Don't start."

He shrugged. "I'm not." A pause. "I'm just saying." Another pause. "You know. You know there have been other women. Lots."

She sighed. "Why does everyone keep telling me that? I know. He's a colonel, not a monk."

"I'm just saying, is all. I mean...you know it won't last. It won't mean...I mean...I hate to see you get hurt, is all. You know. When he breaks up with you, I mean... which he will." A long pause. Evan glancing at his fingers. Moira staring moodily at her feet. "So...um...did we?"

"No." Her voice was soft. Assured.

"Are you certain?" he asked, gaze moving over her.

She met his speculative expression. "Yes. Absolutely, now. Don't ask how," she warned. Annoyed at the uncomfortable topic, the uncomfortable exam.

He acquiesced. "Okay."

"All right, then," Carson joined them. "You're both fine. Nothing on the scans, nothing in the blood work, nothing from the physical exams. Except a cut lip on you, Evan, and some abrasions on you, Moira. Now, you may have more memories, bad dreams, and that is only natural considering the trauma you both have–"

"Abrasions?" Evan asked, eying her again.

"On my knees from being dragged," Moira clarified. Suddenly colored as she realized what he had been thinking. She shifted on the bed, legs tightly closed. Stared at the floor.

"Off you go, then. Get some rest. Have something to eat first. If you need a sleeping pill I can provide one. Moira, wait please."

Evan eyed her again, concerned, curious. But he quietly left. Moira watched him go, shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the doctor. "I... I am okay, right?"

Carson sat across from her. "Yes, love, you are fine. Nothing was done to you. Nothing was taken from you. Everything is fine, complete, and where it should be."

She released the breath she had not realized she had been holding. "I...I suppose any invasive procedures would have been more detrimental to her goals. Carson...would it...would it have worked? Would it have actually worked?"

"Moira..." Carson sighed. "When I think of what you must have endured, what those creatures wanted to do to you...over and over to produce viable specimens...my God, Moira! What you would have had to endure!"

"Please, Carson,"she said, a wave of tears threatening, "don't. I don't want to break down again. I already did once and it was not pleasant. If I do it again I won't be able to handle it, and your kindness, your compassion...they're about to break me!" She stared at the floor. Shivered. "Just, just answer me. Clinically. One scientist to another."

Carson sighed. "I don't know if I can, Moira. It was you, not some theoretical–"

"Then don't think of me! Think of it as a theoretical question. Please."

Carson patted her knee. "All right, love." He took a breath, considered. "Clinically, it could have possibly worked. To produce viable specimens with the ATA gene there can be no doubt, although as you know it's a fifty-fifty chance that any offspring would inherit the gene from either parent. But whether or not those would be compatible with the Wraith genome is another matter. I suspect not. Although I think our artificial gene would not be compatible at all."

Moira stared at the floor, recovering composure. Calming emotion. Focusing on the science. "Because it is artificial. But what about the natural gene?"

"There is a slight difference between the two. The therapy does not work on every human, as you know. So I doubt it would work at all on the Wraith. Now...the natural gene...might bond to the human part of their genome...but it would be a very tricky process. To introduce it into the human part of their genetic code."

"Because it would only bond to the human DNA, right? Not the Iratus bug?"

"Exactly."

"But if what I contend is true, that the Wraith are more than a single combination of the two species but a new combined species of both genomes–"

"Then the natural gene would have a greater chance of successful implantation," Carson finished for her. "But how it would work, and whether it would be blocked by the enzyme, or bond to a specific protein...that I do not know. And I hope to God we never find out."

Moira finally met his gaze. "It...it was horrible, Carson," she whispered.

"I can well imagine, love. But then again, I can't, being a man." She nodded. He squeezed her knee gently, stood. "You know that Doctor Heightmeyer is available if you need to talk."

"No...I'm fine. Unless, unless you don't want me to talk to you," she said, words a rush as sudden panic filled her.

"Of course I want you to talk to me, Moira. It just might be easier talking to her. Being a woman and all," he explained with a smile. "You can talk to me any time, Moira. About anything."

She smiled briefly. "Thank you, Carson." She hesitated. He waited, seeing the look on her face. The words wanting to spill out of her. She sighed, looked at her hands. "I can't believe what I did. I mean...shooting that Wraith queen over and over. I couldn't stop."

"You had every reason not to stop."

Moira looked up as Carson looked over to see John join them, his quiet words firm, sure. His gaze moved from Moira to Carson, who nodded. John regarded Moira. She had looked away again, tears shining in her brown eyes, an expression of misery on her face. "I know. I...when I remembered all of it I had to find her. To stop her. For what she did to me. To Evan. For what she was going to do to me. For what she was going to do to you, John," she paused, glancing at him, then studying her hands again. "I couldn't allow that."

"And you didn't, Moira. You didn't." John looked at Carson, questions swirling in his mind, but unasked. Gestured instead.

Carson nodded. "Moira, you should get some rest now, love. Have something to eat."

She sighed, stood. "I really, really need a shower."

"I wasn't going to say anything but..." John gently teased.

She met his gaze, smiled at his attempt at humor. "Thanks for that, colonel." She moved past the men, quickly exited the infirmary.

John stared after her. "Carson, is she all right? I mean really all right?"

"Yes. She's fine. Physically. Emotionally, well...it's been hell."

"I know that. I–"

"No. No, you don't know, John. No, I'll leave it at that," Carson stated, stopping the questions forming on John's lips. "Don't you dare press her. Just leave her be, for now. All right? The poor lass has been through quite enough without you pressing her and pushing her for details."

John frowned. "Fine. I wasn't going to push or press or ask for–"

"Like hell you weren't, John, please," Carson remonstrated. "Leave her be. That is my direct order, as she is still my patient and under my care."

**********************************************************************

Moira jolted out of bed, panic strangling her. She struggled with the blankets until realizing she was safe in her room. The cocoon were only the sheets tangled around her. Nevertheless she got out of the bed, stood uneasily in the dark. Rubbed her tired eyes, tender from the sobbing she had endured in the shower, succumbing to the horrors. Feeling better from the emotional release she had fallen fast asleep. Until scattered images had invaded.

Fear lined her throat, made her heart jump. Fear of whether or not this was real. Was just another illusion planted in her mind by the Wraith queen. A quiet voice in her head suggested she had never made it off that planet, out of that room. She tried to calm herself, failed. She pulled on a t-shirt, pants, deciding.

Evan tossed and turned, moaned at remembered pain. The room. The Wraith queen's sadistic pleasure in torturing them, taunting them. Treating them like lab rats. He recalled arguing with Moira over what to do. Her rejection of having sex with him. Her adamant refusal to betray John. His kissing of her, moving against her. Her body squirming beneath his as simulated joining with her. As he joined with her.

Evan woke, stared at the darkness of his room. Thoughts confused, tangled. His body reacting to the dream. Wondered if it was a dream or a memory. Thought about Moira in ways he hadn't previously considered. Still startled by the revelation of whom she was seeing. He jumped out of the bed, hastily pulled on some clothes.

John tossed and turned. Images filled his brain. The lab. The assault on Moira. The Wraith queen's mangled corpse. Pushing Moira to remember. The phrases. Breeding. Mating. ATA gene. Specimens. A disjointed image of Carson, scolding him not to push her, not to push her. Accusing him of killing her. Killing Moira.

John jolted awake, sat up and flung the blankets off his body. His heart hammered. He calmed his breathing, stared round the dark room. The dream had been so real, so vivid. He rubbed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair. He slipped out of the bed, uncertain. Stood debating.

Evan stood outside Moira's room. He touched the door. Hesitated. Finally knocked. Knocked again, louder. "Moira?" He waited. Heard nothing. He opened the door. Stepped inside. Saw the empty room, rumpled bed. The empty bed. Wondered where she had gone.

Moira stood outside John's room. Hesitated. Touched the door, felt its solidity, its reality. She drew back her hand, formed a fist to knock when the door opened suddenly. Her fist landed squarely on John's chest. She stared at him. His rumpled hair, the navy t-shirt and navy plaid boxer shorts he wore.

John stared back at her. The messy, loose hair, wide brown eyes, hastily pulled on green shirt and khaki pants. "Ow," he mildly complained.

"Oh!" She lowered her hand, embarrassed. "John."

He pulled her into his room, into his arms, kissing her as he closed the door. "Moira." He pulled back to release her as she sighed. "Couldn't sleep?"

She stepped away from him, uncertain. Awkward. "I...for awhile. I had...I had to be sure." She sat on his bed, felt its mattress, the tangled blankets.

"Sure?" He sat next to her. Waited. Laid back suddenly, scooting up to the pillows. "Moira?"

She relaxed, laid next to him, nestled close as his arm encircled her. She rested her head on his chest, ran her fingers up the fabric of his shirt. "I had to be sure. I was back. That this wasn't some horribly cruel illusion. I...I needed to see you, John. To feel you. To have you be real."

His warm, solid body comforted her.

"I'm real. We're in Atlantis. Safe," he assured, caressing her back. "I'm sorry. I thought...Carson said to leave you be. He was quite emphatic. So I did. But I couldn't sleep either, Moira."

"Seems to be going around," she remarked. She caressed his chest, shifting against him. "John Sheppard."

"Don't do that. It was way too creepy," he commented, feeling a shudder remembering the odd repetition of his name. The trigger.

"Sorry." She shifted again. Her fingers sliding down now to his shorts. To caress against the fabric, traveling a most intimate route.

Puzzled he lifted his hand to catch hers but stopped. Her touch felt so good, so very good as she stroked, teased, finding her objective. "Moira? I...I didn't expect this. I didn't think you'd be...um...I thought sex was the last thing you'd want. Do you want to have sex?" he asked.

"No. Yes. No." She sighed, moving to view his face, caressing all the while. "John." She kissed him, light, almost shy kisses trailing his lips, his jaw, his throat. "I need...how can I explain this?"

"What do you need?" he asked, catching strands of her hair in his fingers. With the other hand he stroked her back. Felt no bra under the t-shirt. Tried to ignore the wonderful things he fingers were making him feel. Making him want.

"I need..." She sighed, met his gaze. "John. I need you to...um...I need you to make love to me," she finally informed, her voice soft. A blush warmed her cheeks. Her expression was serious, almost grave, brown eyes somber. "Do you know what I mean?"

He stared at her, captivated. "Yes. I think I know what to–"

"No." She lightly brushed her lips against his. "Not...not just...not just sex. Well, yes, obviously, but not just that. I need you to...I need you to make love to me. I need to be..." She sighed, frustrated at her inability, her reluctance to express herself. "I need...I feel...John, I..." The word hovered on the air, unspoken but shouting nevertheless. She bit her lower lip, chewed a moment, debating, debating. "Damn it, John! I....I need to feel..." She couldn't say it. Was afraid to say it. Afraid to not say it. Ready to give up, to flee, began to move away from him.

Suddenly she was beneath him. He kissed her gently, ran his mouth over to her ear. "Loved," he finished for her, as reluctant as she was to say it, to say anything out loud like that. He nibbled her earlobe, making her murmur, shift under him. Ran his mouth down her throat. His hands slid gently down her waist to unbutton, to unzip, to gently, oh so gently caress. "I know."

She touched his chest, halting him. "Do you? I mean, I mean, do you know the difference?"

He kissed her again. "Yes, Moira, I do. Trust me."

"I...I just need to feel you are real, you are solid, you're you, not some phantom," she explained shakily, a few tears spilling.

He kissed them away, kissed her lips, her throat. "I'm no phantom. I'm real. I'm here with you and I will make love with you. Loving you into safety and security," he soothed, pulling down her pants, removing them. Shifting his body, hers, as he repeated the actions with her panties.

He removed his shorts, pressing against her now.

"John..." she whispered, half worriedly, half pleasurably. She pulled him closer, closer still.

"Moira..." He slid her shirt up, began a tantalizing progression of kisses. "I do know how to do this."

"So I've heard," she wryly commented, relaxing.

"What?" He lifted his head to meet her loving gaze. Smiled.

She smiled. "It doesn't matter."


	6. Chapter 6

Genetic Drift6

John stirred, awakening. Pleasantly relaxed, rested. He opened his eyes to find himself on his back, blankets twisted around him. Around Moira as she slept on top of him. He smiled. Kissed her brow and gently disentangled himself from her, from the sheets. She muttered, rolled over and cuddled in the bed, still asleep.

He slipped out of the bed, grabbing clothes on the way and quickly showered. Trying to be as quiet as possible lest he disturb her. When he emerged from the bathroom she was still curled in his bed. He watched her a moment, then left. He strolled down the hallways, absently headed for her room. Spotted Evan knocking on her door, calling her name. A smirk formed but he schooled his expression to a more neutral one.

Evan sighed, turned suddenly hearing the unmistakable boots approaching. "Colonel? Do you know where Moira is?"

John replied evenly, "She's asleep." The two gazes held, held. Until John continued down the hallway, unperturbed.

Moira woke. She rolled over, reaching, snuggling into the bed, into where John's warmth still lingered. She opened her eyes, stared at the empty room. His room. His bed. She sat up, pulling her t-shirt down, looked at the clock. "Oh shit," she remarked, seeing the late hour. She awkwardly scrambled out of the bed, found her pants, pulled them on and zipped them. Searched the sheets, blankets for her panties. Looked around the floor. Ended up on her hands and knees leaning down under the bed.

John entered his room. He smiled, closing the door. Set a plate and glass on the table. Watched her move further under the bed, enjoying the angle. "Can I help you find something, Moira?"

"Ow!" she protested as she banged her head, startled by his voice. She scooted out, stood, sheepishly smiled. "I've got a problem, John. I can't find my panties."

His smile became a grin. "I don't think that's a problem, Moira." He laughed at her scowl.

"Ah!" She circled the bed. "Why didn't you wake me? It's late! I still have to shower, change into clean clothes, get to the bio lab...oh, the report! What am I going to put in my report?" She snatched her panties off the floor, wondered how they had traveled so far, shoved them into her pocket.

"Don't worry about the report. Here, I've brought you breakfast. I thought you could sleep in."

She turned, moved to the table. Drank the juice. "Thank you. Where are my socks? My shoes? Damn...I didn't wear shoes." She sat on the bed, abruptly self-conscious as she covered her scarred foot with the other. Practically curling them under the bed. "I should have thought of that. I'll have to move quickly."

John stepped to the dresser, pulled out a pair of socks. He moved to her, knelt on the floor at her feet. "Wear these. They'll be a little big but will suffice for now."

"John–" she protested, but he gently pulled her feet to him. Slipped a sock onto one foot. She tensed, bit her lip as he drew out the other foot. Gently ran his fingers over the myriad scars marring the skin up to her ankle. He slipped the sock over her foot, met her gaze.

"It's all right, Moira. Did you really think a few scars would change how I feel?"

"I...there's more than a few. And you've never seen my foot so openly like that..." she faltered.

He smiled. "True. I was too busy looking at other areas of interest." His gaze wandered.

She smiled as he stood, pulled her to her feet. Kissed her. "I'd better go. It's late, and I'll try not to be seen," she assured him. She moved to the door. Moved back to kiss him. "Thank you, John." She grabbed the danish on the plate, took a bite. Eyed him again. His white woven shirt, black jeans. "Why are you dressed like that?" she asked round a mouthful of food.

"We're off-duty, Moira. I even get a few days of downtime." His green eyes glinted with unspoken, suddenly sensual ideas.

She frowned, as if guessing his thoughts. "Oh. Of course." She opened the door, cautiously peered up and down the hall. Stepped out of his room and jogged back to hers.

**************************************************************************

Clad in a violet shirt and gray jeans Moira sat in the biology lab. A laptop blinked, streaming data as she was hunched over a microscope. But instead of peering through the lens she was staring at nothing, lost in memories. Some bad like the Wraith queen's horrifying revelations. Carson's confirmations. Moira recalled how she shot the queen over and over. Pushed her mind to more pleasant memories. John's warm tenderness. His understanding, his mostly gentle lovemaking last night.

"Here you are. I need to talk to you."

Startled she nearly upended the microscope. She righted it, flustered at her erotic musings. She turned in the chair to see Evan walking towards her. A serious expression on his face. "Evan?"

"You weren't in your room last night." A calm accusation.

"Wasn't I?"

"No. And you weren't this morning either. It's all right, Moira. I know where you were. Sheppard told me as much."

"What?" It was her turn to stare.

"Not in so many words, but we both knew what he meant. You went to his bed last night."

Moira swallowed, glad they were alone. "Um...yes." She frowned.

Evan sighed. "I'm sorry, Moira." He came closer, ran a hand through his hair. "I just...I'm having some trouble. I couldn't sleep a wink last night."

"Neither could I," she agreed, "until I went to..." she cut herself before the words John's bed spilled out of her mouth. Said instead, "But that is understandable, given what we endured."

"True. But when I did sleep, Moira, I did dream. I remembered. More of the memories are coming back to me now. But I still can't tell the difference and I have to know."

"Know what? Evan?" she asked, tensing.

He stood closer, his hand resting on the table. "I think we were together, Moira. I think we did have sex to save–"

"No." She stared. "We didn't. I told you–"

"Yes, but then why do I keep remembering it? I mean every little detail?" he insisted, gaze wandering over her before returning to her face.

Moira swallowed again, embarrassed. Especially after last night. With John. "You are dreaming, Evan, that's all." She turned back to the microscope. But he caught her hand on the table, stopping her.

"No. It's too vivid. I don't want to hurt you, Moira, but I don't want to lie, either. I've been thinking it was the only way to relieve that awful pain. It was killing us, don't you remember?"

"Yes, but we–"

"We could have had sex safely, Moira. Since you are seeing...since you are seeing the colonel no doubt you are on birth control, right? So if we did have sex you wouldn't have gotten pregnant anyway. We wouldn't have furthered the Wraith's experiments and saved ourselves all that pain! You knew this but you still refused to–"

"Yes, yes, but I wasn't thinking clearly, Evan! Maybe I forgot! I don't know."

"You could have saved us all of that pain if you only–"

"I'm sorry, Evan, but no! It didn't matter. I still wouldn't have betrayed him, all right?" Anger.

"You would rather we had died than–"

"No! Yes! No! What do you want from me?" she snapped, yanking her hand away from his.

"The truth! Because after all those refusals I remember the pain. The Wraith manipulating us. No, the Wraith manipulating you! Your mind!"

"We were stronger. We denied–"

"I don't think so! Why else do I have such vivid memories? The feel of your mouth on mine."

"You kissed me to stop the pain, remember?"

"The feel of your body beneath mine."

"You were on top of me to stop the pain for a moment! That's all!"

"It's too vivid, Moira," he insisted, voice serious, low. Gaze intense now, boring into her. "I clearly can see your naked body beneath mine, writhing beneath me. I took you. You were moaning, sometimes John's name, sometimes mine, and I knew I should stop. I knew I should stop but I couldn't. I just couldn't stop myself from entering your–"

"No!" Moira shoved the microscope away from her, met his gaze but it was wondering over her body in a most salacious manner. "Evan!" He raised his eyes to hers. She stood, moved away from him, turned her back to him. Hugged herself. "It's just a, a hormonal response to what we endured! What she, they wanted us to force us to do! Their manipulations of our, our senses, our pain and pleasure centers! A dream. A fantasy. I can prove it!"

"How?" He was behind her now, staring at the long fall of her ponytail. Following its downward direction towards the small of her back, towards her rear.

She turned to him, angry, flushed. "In this...so-called memory of yours, did I have any scars?"

"Scars? You have scars?" His gaze wandered again.

"Yes! And if you don't remember them then it proves you never–"

He smiled. "Maybe I was too busy to see them. And the room was very dark."

"These you would see. And no, not just my foot. An obvious guess but you've never see how ugly it is." She recalled John's gaze, his gentle caresses, his loan of his socks. His unperturbed appraisal. She held onto that memory, seeking strength. Solace.

"That is hardly proof, Moira. I don't remember a detailed examination of your body, just the impulsive rush of entering–"

"No! It's just a fantasy! Nothing more! If what I'm saying isn't proof enough I have the medical proof as well, all right? Because it was a very in depth examination! Happy now? Why are you insisting on all of this now? We're here! We're safe! Nothing–"

"Because it's all I can think about," he admitted sheepishly. Embarrassed.

She shook her head. "Then think of something else! Get over it!"

"How?" he demanded, her anger fueling his.

"I don't know! Take a cold shower!" She crossed to the table. Shut off the laptop.

He laughed, but it sounded harsh. "That won't even–"

"Get it out of your system, Evan! I don't want to lose you as a friend," she earnestly stated. "Take a cold shower. Find another woman and have sex with her. That shouldn't be too difficult for you." She cursed silently at his smile. Strode out of the lab.

**************************************************************************

John was sitting across from Ronon in the cafeteria. "Do you think we will run into any other enclaves of Wraith worshipers?"

Ronon chewed, swallowed. Nodded. "Maybe. It would not surprise me. At least we know what to do when to find them."

John shook his head. "No. I only gave the shoot to kill order because they would not have let us go. Only as a last defense."

"Right."

"I'm serious, Ronon," John corrected, annoyed at the Satedan's flippancy. "Each situation is different. I won't give that order unless absolutely necessary."

"Right," Ronon repeated. "We both know what it's really like out there, Sheppard. It's kill or be killed. There's no reason to pretend otherwise."

"Damn it, Ronon, I won't have you shooting everyone in sight just because you think they might worship the–"

"May I join you?" Moira asked, interrupting.

"Of course." John scooted over to make room but Moira remained standing, eying his food, his drink. Wordlessly she lifted the beer to his lips, drank. Grimaced.

"Yuck," she commented, causing the men to smile. She drank more. More. Downing the entire bottle. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Set the bottle down on the table. "How do you drink that stuff?" she complained. Drank from a water bottle she had taken from the counter to cleanse her mouth.

John had been staring, open-mouth as she had guzzled his beer. "Well, I usually don't chug it all at once unless I've had a really bad day. Moira?"

"Dutch courage," she explained. Snatched a French-fry from his plate, turned to see Ronon watching, still grinning at her. "Hey, Ronon."

"Hey," he replied, nonplused.

Moira ate the French-fry, grabbed another. Touched John's shoulder. Strolled out of the cafeteria without another word.

"Huh. Is she okay?" Ronon asked.

"I...I don't know," John rejoined, staring after her in amazed amusement.

"Is that normal?"

"For her? No."

"Why did she–"

"I don't know," John repeated, bewildered. "But I had better find out."

************************************************************************

Moira imbibed the stolen French-fry, entered the infirmary. She passed people, stood near Carson as he was briskly entering data on a computer. She waited. Waited. Coughed.

Carson glanced at her. "Moira. Can I help you?"

"I need to talk to you. Privately."

"Privately? Are you feeling–"

"Fine. No, it's not me. I'm fine."

"All right." Carson finished his notes. "This way." Puzzled he led her towards the storage units, pulled two chairs and sat in one. "Here." He patted the chair. "What's wrong, love?"

Moira took the other chair, shifted on its hard surface. "Something's wrong with, with Evan."

"What makes you say that?"

"He...um...he isn't acting like himself."

"How so? Has he tried to harm you or–" Carson's gaze darkened.

"No! Nothing like that!"

"I didn't think so. If he had threatened you in any way you would tell John, wouldn't you?"

"Yes." She studied her hands. "He's having trouble. Trouble recovering. I mean, I'm fine now. I mean, I'm still shaken up and all, but I'm fine. I don't feel the need for any more emotional meltdowns, thank goodness! But he...there are some things he can't or won't let go. He's convinced we...did something which we did not. And he won't believe me! He thinks it's true because he claims to remember it. But it is only a dream. A fantasy...nothing! Nothing like that happened, I know for an absolute fact."

"I see," Carson encouraged, guessing the import of her words without her actually saying it.

"Why isn't he all right, Carson? I'm all right. And I had it worse than he did! He, he says he keeps thinking of me...in a certain...um...not professional way. Which has never happened before this whole thing...so...and nothing happened between us. I know for certain. The medical exam was quite clear on...anyway, I don't have the same trouble."

Carson smiled. "So you're telling me that Evan has developed a crush on you, Moira?"

Her gaze shot up to him. "Carson! It's not funny! I wish it was that simple! I wish...I don't know what to do! Why isn't he fine like I am?"

"John," Carson answered simply.

"What?" Moira whirled in the chair, but he was nowhere in sight.

"No. He's not here. He's the reason, Moira."

She looked back at him. "What?" she repeated.

Carson smiled, but sniffed. "Have you been drinking?"

"What? Oh...yes. I needed to summon the courage to talk to you about, about this."

"Did you eat any–"

"A little. Explain, please," she insisted.

Carson smiled. "I can't blame you, Moira. Me, I would have been under the table hours ago. After what you endured."

"John?" she prompted.

"Oh, yes. Simply put, you're fine because you have John. Because you have someone in your life, in your mind to hold onto when you need that. During the worst of it. During the rest. Now that you are back here...Evan...doesn't. He isn't seeing anyone, is he?"

"No. I don't think so." She sighed. "So he's fixated on me because he thinks we...but I'm not fixated on him."

"John," the doctor repeated. "And in some ways it may have been worse for Evan. Not to belittle what you endured, love, but for the male of the species–"

"The hormonal urges would be...um...worse?" she guessed. Winced at the thought.

"Aye. Stronger. While you had John to cling to in your mind, he only had you."

Moira sighed again. "Damn it. How do we get past this, Carson? I don't want to lose him as a friend, as my team leader. Carson," she leaned close, touched his arm. "Would you talk to him?"

"Me? I wouldn't know how to broach the subject."

"Please, Carson! I don't know what to do! He won't listen to me. And no, we can't go to Heightmeyer about this. It's too...um...embarrassing. And I...I feel more comfortable talking to you. I'm sorry, but I trust you. And Evan would probably prefer discussing this particular, um, problem with a man. A doctor. Not a woman." She burped. "Oh! Excuse me!" She sat back, laughed suddenly. "Sorry! I'm not used to–"

"All right," he acquiesced. "Go and get something to eat. Then go lay down before you fall down, Moira. I'll see what I can do about Evan." Carson shook his head.

"Really?" She stood as he did. "Thank you, Carson!" She hugged him, startling him. Kissed his cheek. "You are the best, Carson!" She wobbled. Touched the chair as she stepped back. "Wow...this stuff is...potent."

"You're not used to it, love, and you need to eat something," Carson said, amused.

Her eyes widened. She covered her mouth, gasped. Lowered her hand. "Am I drunk? What if I blurt something out? Carson, what if I blurt it out? To John! To John Sheppard!" she clarified needlessly. "I'm seeing him, you know. He'll not be too happy about, about this."

"To say the least," Carson agreed. "Go get something to eat, then sleep this off, Moira. You'll be fine, trust me."

"Okay, okay, Doctor Beckett. I can do this," she agreed as he took her arm, steered her towards the doorway. "I just have to avoid John. John Sheppard. That's all. Easy. Easy peasy, right?" She laughed. "That is so cute, Carson...so Scottish and cute and...oh my, sorry! Avoid John. Avoid John, okay, sir, that's my mission."

Carson shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Go on, then, Doctor O'Meara." He tapped his earpiece. "Could you locate Major Lorne for me, son? I need to see him."

************************************************************************

Moira walked down the hallway, swaying once or twice. Seeing John she froze, quickly went the other way. He had seen her, moved to follow. Moira quickly rounded the corner, stumbled into a transporter and ignored him as he called her name. She traveled quickly, got lost. Found her way to the cafeteria. She selected a sandwich, a bottle of water, made her way to a table. Stumbled into another table, muttered her apologies. Slid into a chair, drank. Ate a few bites, scanning the room for Evan.

"Moira? What the hell is going on?" John demanded, sitting across from her. Finally tracking her erratic movements to find her.

"John. Nothing, John. Just...lunch." She indicated the food. Blinked. Smiled. His steady gaze made her add, "I'm just a little woozy, that's all." She pushed the plate aside, coiled a strand of her hair in her fingers. Rested her elbows on the table, leaning towards him. "Do you know, John? Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard?"

"Know what?" he asked, not knowing whether to be amused or concerned.

She smiled at him. "Do you know," she said seriously, "that you are so gorgeous that sometimes I forget to breath when I look at you?"

"Only sometimes?" he teased, as her foot brushed his ankle under the table. "How many beers have you had, Moira?"

She laughed. "Only the one."

"Wow," he commented, smiling.

"No wonder you've had so many women. Half of Atlantis must be chasing after you, hmm? Or wait, is it only off-world women? I was only told it was lots. Lots of women."

"What?" he asked, startled. "Who–"

"Who hasn't? Oh everyone, John. John Sheppard. Ford, Evan, it's a lot of people who told me about your lots of women," she informed him. Pointed at him. "But I have you now, right?"

"Yes," he replied, bewildered. "What else did Evan say?"

She sat back, licked her lips. "Oh shit. I can't talk about Evan. Ah, John...you were so very, very wonderful last night," she purred.

"Moira," he cautioned, "what did–"

"No, it's true!" she exclaimed, attracting momentary attention. "You really did know the difference between making love and just sex. But it's not surprising since you've had so many lots of women," she slightly slurred. "Oh," she touched his hand, "you were so kind about my foot! The gross one. So very kind about it...you gave me your socks, John..." She felt tears, as if overcome by the gift, "you're the only one who knows about the scars. All of them. Except for Carson. Carson Beckett. He's a doctor, you know."

"I know," he agreed. Stood. "Come on. I think you need to sleep this off, Moira."

"Sleep what off? The socks? Oh John Sheppard," she purred, voice slowing over his name, "are you asking me to bed?" She smiled, gaze wandering over his body, back to his bemused expression. "Oops, that wasn't discreet, was it?" She stood, glancing at the people in the cafeteria. "Sorry, sorry, John. Oops, sorry, colonel. Colonel Sheppard."

"Maybe you should eat some more of that sandwich," John suggested, trying not to laugh.

"I'm not hungry. I'll go. Go." She stumbled away from the table backwards. "I can't talk to you, John. Oh! Oh, that's right!" she exclaimed. "I have to avoid you, yes, I remember now!"

"Avoid me? Why?" He started to follow her.

"No, no, no time to avoid I have to tell you...no...that's not right..." She stumbled backwards, thinking. "I have to kiss those luscious, luscious lips of yours to...no..." She giggled. "I just want to do that...no. I have to avoid those lovely, lovely lips of yours to...wow. This is really strong stuff that you drink, colonel."

John grinned, following as she turned and made her way out of the cafeteria. She ran her hand along the wall to support herself. Until John slid his arm around her waist, guided her himself.

"Come on, you lush. You need to–"

"_Tempus fugit_, John! Did you know if those cows had been real they would have been the subspecies of _Pelorovis oldowayensis_? A possibly remnant population or an example of genetic drift? Imagine that!" She laughed. "But if they had been true cattle, a true artiodactyl with moon-shaped cusps on their teeth they would have been more recent. True bovids are much later than the earlier extinct forms."

John sighed, guided her into her room. "I can honestly say a drunk paleozoologist is not what I expected this afternoon."

She turned to him as he closed the door, flung herself against him. Kissed him sloppily. "Hmm, John...weren't you going to bed me put?"

He smiled. "Don't tempt me, Moira."

"Oh! Damn!" She freed herself, stepped backwards and hit the bed. Sat. "I can't avoid you. I mean I can't talk to you. Go away!"

He studied her. "Why? Why do you need to avoid me? Why can't you talk to me?"

"Wow! This is weird. I wonder if it would suppress the hormonal urges in males. John, you're a male. Do you find when you drink this stuff your hormonal urges are eradicated, or at least suppressed, maybe even modified and could dampen the erotic or even pseudo-erotic fixations you may or may not create?" His puzzled stare made her shrug. "Or not. It wouldn't enhance them, would it? What makes the male hormonal urges go into overdrive or into at least an erotic fixation based on imaginary events or not? What? Come here," she held out her hand. "Let's see if you are impaired by the alcoholic excesses of a...no, no that's ridiculous! I'm the female, you're the hold onto guy. He had no one Carson said. It was John. I had to hold onto John to fight the rest but he didn't have any oh damn I knew this wasn't a good idea I can't talk to you avoid you go away."

John tried to follow her convoluted words, seeking answers. He sat next to her. "What? I know there's something in there I should know. Talk slower, Moira."

"Screw talking, just mate me, John Colonel!" She kissed him, drew him down on top of her as she fell back against the bed.

"So much for avoidance," he laughed, returning her kisses. He sat up. "Moira? What can't you tell me?"

"Hmm?" She smiled, touched his leg, closing her eyes. "Hmm...Carson said to lay down and he was right wow the room is spinning. Why do all these men want me to lay down?"

"What men?" John asked, suspicious. Suspecting. "Moira, what men?" He gently nudged her.

She opened her eyes, smiled. "What men? Where?"

"What men, what man wants you to lay down?" he asked, amusement fleeing.

"Lay down? What man wants me to lay down? Oh! I see! You want me to lay down. I see. Oh John, you were so very, very wonderful last night in your bed to lay down..." she babbled.

"Moira, focus," he urged, leaning down to her. "What other man? Besides me?"

"Other man? Oh John, there is no other man besides you!" she gushed, words slipping out of her in an emotional rush now, heedless. "Oh John, oh John there is no other man but you, you! I love you, John, I love you! There is no there other man like you, never has been, never will be! Oh! You mean the other man who wants lay down me but those damn hormonal urges not really his fault since it was a pulse, no, subsonic, no, a vibration to–"

"Moira!" John snapped, startled by her abrupt declaration, not surprised but startled all the same. "Who?" He gently nudged her again. "Moira? Moira, was it Lorne?" He kissed her. She responded, pulling him closer. "Who? I know it was Lorne but I have to know exactly what he said, what he did. Moira?"

"Nothing happened," she said softly, sleepily. "I wouldn't allow it to hurt you, John. I shot the queen to save you. To keep you from that torture."

"Not then, Moira, now. Now. Did something happen now?" he persisted.

"Now? You want something happen now? I want something happen now too John...you can even move faster harder now to me," she slurred, eyes closing. "Didn't enter. Did not enter, no way, no fucking way. No scars. Only John sees my scars."

He bent closer as her voice became softer, softer still. "What? Moira? I have to know."

She rolled onto her side, scooting up to the pillows. "Don't tell, don't tell John because he won't know. Didn't enter. No enter. Never. Never hurt John. I only want John but I tell John I love John but he has lots of women lots of women my bed I went to his bed I want hold onto John."

"Moira?" He shook her shoulder. She snorted, was out cold. He sighed, caressed her shoulder, mulling her words. Uncertain. Suspicious. Confident she hadn't been harmed but knew something had happened to upset her. Enough for her to down his beer all in one go. Enough for her to try to avoid him. Not tell him. Instead other things had spilled out of her. But she had talked to Carson. He stood. Left after a few moments.


	7. Chapter 7

Genetic Drift7

Evan ran. He jogged up and down the city's upper levels. Shoes clanging on the metal walkways high above the hallways. Away from the city's busier sections. Activity. He ran in a steady gait, stretching muscles, straining nerves as he tried to escape his wandering thoughts. The argument with Moira. His disbelief. Her adamant denials. His own confusion over what he felt, what he thought he felt, remembered.

He slowed, sore. Tired. Sweaty. Strolled at last to the lower levels and heard himself being paged on the comm. Sighed. He decided not to stop and shower, change. Instead went directly to the infirmary. Passed a few nurses who smiled at him. Approached Carson as he was examining a vial of blood. "Sorry, doc. I was running. What's up?"

Carson frowned at the vial, set it aside. "In here." He led Evan into a private room. Shut the door. Folded his arms across his chest, looking rather threatening in his white lab coat.

"Um...is there something wrong, doc?" Evan asked, puzzled. A little alarmed.

"Yes. No, nothing like that," he reassured. "Sit down. We need to have a wee chat."

"A wee chat?" Evan asked, raising a brow, perplexed. He sat on the bed, frowned. "About?"

"You really don't know? This morning?" Carson prompted. At Evan's silence he continued. "Moira?" He saw sudden realization, memory. Annoyance. "She asked me to speak to you. She is concerned."

"Frankly, doc, it's none of your business. It's between Moira and myself."

"True," the doctor agreed, "but she came to me. She doesn't want to lose your friendship. Look, Evan...I have gleaned what you two endured. And it is perfectly understandable for you to have, um, shall we say, an emotional or even a physical attachment to–"

"I don't want to talk about this!" Evan snapped, moving to his feet.

"Neither do I. Neither did she, but she was upset enough to get drunk to summon up the nerve to talk to me about it!" Carson replied, losing patience.

"What? Moira's never drunk!" Evan rejected.

"Exactly. You really upset her, Evan. I'm sure you didn't mean to upset her. You are very upset yourself. Naturally you are having reactions to what you two endured. The mind can mix up memories with fantasies very easily. Especially when both have been tampered with by–"

"She got drunk?" Evan said, still not believing. Still startled. Angered that she had even discussed it with someone else.

"Yes. And if she blurts anything out...even just a few words here and there, inadvertently..."

"Colonel Sheppard," Evan realized glumly. Sat back down on the bed. "Oh shit."

"Exactly," Carson agreed. "Even if she doesn't say anything but your name he'll know something's not right. He's a smart man. He'll put the pieces together, but more than likely he'll jump to the wrong conclusion."

Evan sighed, cursed silently. "And after what he saw before...shit. He will shoot me for sure. Why the hell did Moira have to tell you any of this in the first place? I haven't done anything! I would never hurt Moira! I...I just...I don't believe what she says. I know what I remember!"

"You do? Or is it just a mix of memory and fantasy? Of forced manipulations and hormonal urges? You have feelings for her," Carson stated, "and that is mixed with these false memories and natural hormonal reactions."

"No! I mean I don't have feelings for her! At least I didn't...not until...look, I'm not even sure those memories are false, doc!" He met the doctor's gaze uneasily. "Did she tell you everything?"

"No. She told me enough. Yes, she was that upset. It's not completely your fault, Evan, but you do need to believe her. And to respect her."

"I do! Respect her, I mean. I just can't quite believe her when it's so fucking vivid."

"Carson!" John's voice bellowed across the infirmary.

Carson sighed. "Oh great, that's just bloody great! Stay here." Carson shook his head, exited closing the door behind him. "Why am I all of a sudden the bloody counselor?" he muttered.

"Colonel Sheppard, what is it now?" he asked as John was heading straight for him.

John reached him. Glared. "You tell me. Exactly. I know. About Moira."

"Do you now? That's a good bluff, colonel. But if you knew exactly you wouldn't be asking me, would you?"

"Crap," John muttered. "What happened to her this morning? Something made her get drunk enough to tell you but she won't tell me. At least not clearly. Have you ever tried to understand a rambling, drunken paleozoologist? It's not easy, believe me! Where the hell is Lorne?"

"John, calm down. There's no need–"

"Calm down? Do I need to calm down, Carson? What upset her? I've never seen her like this! She was fine yesterday, fine last night. Fine earlier this morning until she went to the bio lab! Lorne did something, I know it! Said something? I swear if he hurt her I'll–"

"He wouldn't hurt her, John!" Carson stated. "Calm down! What they endured has repercussions, that is all! More so for Evan than for Moira, because she has you. All right?"

"I don't understand. What does that have to do with this? What did he do? What did he say? Look, she, she told me nothing happened on that planet and I believe her. So something happened now. Today. Here."

"Yes," Carson relented, "something happened today. A conversation only," he held up his hand, forestalling John. "That's all. If it had been anything else I would tell you. Moira would have told you. You need to just leave it be, John. It will straighten itself out."

"Leave it be?" John shook his head. "Hell, no. You told me that before, remember? To leave her be. Well, guess what, doc, that was the wrong call. She needed me. She came to me. To my room. To my bed. To my arms. So I can't leave this now. I won't." He considered her rambling words. "I don't know what he said, but it upset her. So much she won't tell me because of how I'll react when I hear what he..." Anger flashed in his eyes. He looked at the closed door, suddenly realizing. Pushed past Carson. "Lorne!" he shouted.

"No! John, it's not like that! Bloody hell!" Carson swore.

The door opened. Evan stepped out of the room, faced his superior officer. "Sir?"

John restrained himself. Every instinct told him to rush the man, to punch, to hit, to fight. Moira's disjointed words clicking into place. "What the hell did you say to her?"

"I wouldn't hurt her, colonel," Evan replied calmly.

"Tell me! What did you say to her?" John ordered. His hand slid down but he had no holster. No gun.

"John, I told you, nothing happened! Why do you think Moira wouldn't tell you? She doesn't want this!" Carson tried to intervene, but both men ignored him.

"What do you want with her anyway?" John demanded.

"I want to fuck her!" Evan informed her angrily. "Happy now! I want to sleep with her but instead she went to your bed, your arms, called out your name over and over! Guess I'll have to wait now for you to dump her and move onto the next."

"You son of a–"

"No!" Carson restrained John as Evan passed him. The two men glared at each other. "Colonel, he doesn't mean it! It's all in his head, a sensory illusion created by the Wraith."

"Let go." John's voice was low, dangerous.

"No. It's not Evan's fault. It's a reaction to the painful indoctrination of the–"

"Let go. Now," John repeated. "I won't do anything."

Carson released him. "Don't, John. It's an after effect of what they endured, were forced to endure. What the Wraith tried to force them to do but they resisted. Resisted at quite a cost. The subsonic pulse was primed to force urges, hormonal urges to force them to mate, to escape the pain. But they resisted. Both of them. Moira's fine because she loves you, John. Only wants you. Evan's subconscious is still rattled by the urges and dreams. That is all."

John tried to listen past his anger, his fury. Jealousy and surprise tangled. He forced himself to listen, to think. "Is that so?"

"Yes. Your reaction will only make things worse, John. Give it time. They can work it out."

"They? I'm not letting him near her, Carson! He won't have a chance to even touch her, much less try to convince her of–"

"He won't. He won't hurt her. Do you think I would have kept silent if I thought he might? Give it time. Don't do anything stupid, John." He grabbed the other man's arm, forced him to meet his gaze. "Nothing is going to happen. He won't hurt her. And she loves you. End of story."

"Some story, doc," he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, sighed. "Now what?"

"Go cool down. Check on Moira."

"She's out cold in her room. One beer and she was–"

Carson nodded. "Aye, I know. Empty stomach, stress, plus she's not used to alcohol. Promise me you won't do anything stupid, John."

"I won't. All right? I'll go check on Moira."

"Good man. Take her these." Carson turned, handed him some aspirin. "She'll need it."

"So will I," he muttered, shaking his head.

**********************************************************************

Moira groaned, rolled over on the bed. She tasted cotton. Realized it was her dry mouth. She winced. A dull ache filled her head. She opened her eyes, squinted at the light. Memory flooded back in a rush. "Shit!" She sat up, moaned, touched her head. The swift motion made her dizzy. She looked around the room. Swallowed. "John."

He was watching her, sitting at the table. "Here." He stood, moved to the bed. Handed her the aspirin, a glass of water "One beer..." he mused, shaking his head as she grimaced, took the pills. Drank the water. "Remind me to never take you to a bar."

"I don't want to do that ever again." She folded her legs up beneath her. "Oh shit. What did I...oh no!"

He smiled. "You said quite a lot."

"I'm sorry."

"No. Some of it was nice." He sat near her. "Very nice, very flattering. Some of it...not so much."

"Sorry," she repeated, trying to remember.

"Just for the record, Moira, there haven't been lots of women. Some, certainly, but not lots," he corrected.

"I'm sorry, John!" She touched his thigh. "I didn't know exactly what I was saying, but, but...oh no, you didn't shoot Evan, did you?" At his silence she said, "John? You, you didn't hit him, did you? It's not his fault, really! It's not...it's a, a hormonal–"

"I know. Carson explained."

"Carson? He...you..." she stammered, embarrassed.

"I can see why you wouldn't want to tell me, Moira, because, believe me, I would have taken care of it in my own way. All that scientific subsonic pulse reasoning is bullshit."

"What? What? John...it's not!" She sighed. "This is why I didn't want to tell you. I'd knew you would go all alpha male and attack Evan for something that is not entirely his fault!"

"Alpha?" he questioned, smiled. "I like that. No, you listen for a change, Moira." He halted her protest. "I know you are not okay with this."

"Of course I am not okay with this but I–"

"That you had to get drunk in order to even speak to Carson about it."

"I didn't intend to get drunk...well, not that drunk. I just needed some–"

"Dutch courage, I remember, and between trying to avoid me and coming on to me you blurted out–"

"All kinds of things, yes, but you can't take it all seriously!"

"No? But I do, Moira. As did you, or you wouldn't have gone to Carson in the first place. I'm sorry, I was the catalyst for this whole thing."

She stared. "What? I don't understand. You?"

"Yes. When I told him you were in my bed. No, not in those exact words, not those words at all but we understood each other. He led with that, didn't he? Ah...I thought so," he surmised, seeing the confirmation in her surprised expression. "And more than likely progressed to a point which became too uncomfortably graphic for you to hear."

She kept staring at him, headache forgotten. "How...how did you know? Did I tell you?"

"No. I guessed. Alpha, remember? I know how men think. How they really react to hormonal this and urges that." He raised a brow. "So?"

"I...I don't understand what you..."

He caught her hand on his thigh. "You've been caressing me without even realizing it."

"Sorry! I–"

"No, please, continue," he moved her hand farther along his thigh towards his crotch. "It was very, very nice, Moira." He kissed her, reached round to pull the ponytail holder from her mussed hair. Kissed her again, moving her back against the bed. "Moira, you should have told me. I didn't need to hear this from Carson or from Lorne."

"What?" She pushed him back. "You spoke to Evan? You–"

"He was there with Carson. Told me exactly what he wanted to do to you. With you. Shall I tell you, Moira? Did he tell you the way he told me?"

She shifted beneath him, stretching out her legs. She ran her hand through his hair, along his cheek, jaw. "No, John. You don't–"

"Oh, but I do, Moira. I know he wouldn't have phrased it that way to you, but the raw truth is what he told me. He wants to fuck you, Moira. Simple as that." He spoke low into her ear, hands moving over her shifting body. "There's a difference, you know, between that and this." She murmured as his hands wandered, wandered intimately, teasingly. "Between this and that. Isn't that true?"

Moira kissed him, pulling him closer, on top of her. Legs spreading, body straining to meet his. "John," she breathed out his name, as his mouth wandered down her throat. Fingers racing up to unbutton her shirt, to yank the violet bra down. To caress. To kiss.

"Ah, Moira, you see? It's nothing to do with your scientific hodgepodge explanations," he reasoned, moving against her to make her gasp, squirm. He met her gaze. "Right now, right now I want nothing more than to have you, to possess you as mine. There's no subsonic pulse in me, is there? Can you rationalize that?"

Moira stared, losing herself in his intense green eyes, the motions of his body on hers. "I...I can't rationalize anything when you are doing that, John," she admitted as his fingers probed, slid, unzipped her pants. Tugging them down, down.

He smiled. "I need you to do this for me, Moira. You know how we alphas are." He lifted to pull her pants off one leg, fingers running up her bare thigh to the violet panties. Smiled. "Ah...you are going to come now, aren't you?"

"John, please," she whispered, body aroused, allured.

He kissed her, moving her lips open to probe, to tease, to taste as the desire grew. Grew insistent. Intense.

Moira could feel his erection probing as well, pushing. His body was warm. His kisses consuming. She felt she was drowning, swimming in a sexual maelstrom so sudden, so abrupt. "John," she whispered.

"Moira," he breathed into her ear, feeling her wetness, her eagerness. "I need you to say it."

"Say, say what?" she asked, as he unzipped his pants. The sound was enticing, arousing. Her grasp tightened on his bare arm.

"I need you to say it, Moira. Say the words to me. Say the words to make me come," he whispered against her skin, voice hoarse with need. Desire.

"I...I..." She cast about in her mind for what he needed, wanted. "I...I want you, John? I want you inside me,"she guessed, finding it difficult to concentrate with the rising sexual heat between them.

He kissed her, yanked off her panties, freed one leg and pushed her thighs apart. "Close, but you know what I need to hear, now. I need to hear those words from your mouth," he insisted, entering her suddenly. A soft moan of pleasure escaped his lips. "Last night was one thing, this is another. Remember? What do I need, Moira, for you to say to me that he wouldn't say to you?" he persisted stubbornly, moving in a slow, strained rhythm.

Moira lost her breath, arching as his body joined with hers but held back, held back. "I don't know, I don't...oh...you, you want me to say that?" Surprise halted her exhalations of mounting pleasure. "John?"

"I need to hear you say it to me, Moira. I can't explain how or why. Just do it," he insisted, kissing her throat. Driving her slowly, oh so slowly towards physical satisfaction.

Moira rocked with him, coloring at his request, his attentions, the vivid sensations. At this reduced speed she could feel everything. Every motion was intensified. "I...I want you, John." She pulled him down to her, whispered hotly into his ear, "I want you to, to...I want you to fuck me, John, I want–" The rest was lost in a gasping exhalation as he plunged faster, faster, as if her words had unleashed the tension he had been holding.

Her nails dug, scratched into his bare skin as he roughly, rapidly brought her to a shuddering orgasm. Her body rocked under his. Her breathless whimpering repeating his name over and over in a rushed exclamation. He moaned, coming fast, hard, messily as he said her name slowly, drawing out the syllables in a growl of possessive satisfaction.

Moira lost her breath, fell back against the bed as he collapsed on top of her. He breathed heavily, deeply, smiled and kissed her. "Moira," he intoned quietly. He moaned, released her, rolled onto his back. "Ah fuck," he said pleasantly. "Are you all right?"

She caught her breath, relaxed her muscles, unbent her knees. "All right? I'm sprawled half-naked on my bed, after having one of the most singly intense orgasms of my life and you ask if I'm all right?" She rolled onto her side to gaze upon him. "What do you think? Good God, John, what the hell was that? I didn't think you could top our first night together but you did."

He grinned, eyed her, turning his head. "Alpha. Remember?"

She frowned, touched his arm. "Damn, did I do that? I've never..." She fingered the scratches on his arm. One bled a little, a tiny crimson line on his skin. "I'm sorry! Oh John–"

"Ow. Geez, one beer and you like it rough, huh? I can't wait to explain this to Carson."

"Hilarious, John!" she scolded. "Damn..." She shifted, moved over him, kissed him. "Feel better now?"

"Yes, thank you. Do you understand now?"

She sat, pulled down her bra. Buttoned her shirt. "The difference? Yes. Oh yes." She pulled off the pants, the panties. Eyed them. "Damn. At this rate I'll need to carry spare underwear with me."

He laughed. "Then don't bother to wear any at all," he suggested.

"Ha ha. Wait. Was that the answer?" She met his gaze but he had closed his eyes. Had zipped up his pants. Flung one arm over his face. "John?"

"God, I'm tired," he grumbled, but happily.

"John!" she complained. Nudged him.

"What was the question?" he asked. A pleasant, erotic, sated drowsiness was making his limbs heavy, his eyes heavy. Sleep beckoned.

"John!" she repeated. Sighed. Puzzled. She moved over him, straddled him. Ran her hand up his chest under his shirt. "Do you want me to ride you, John?" she teased. "Ride you hard?" She leaned down to kiss him.

He smiled. "Go ahead. Give me five...no, ten minutes first."

"I thought you were an alpha, colonel," she teased, but pulled away from him. She moved off the bed, pulled on a clean pair of panties. Pulled on the gray jeans. "Well, as long as you're feeling better then I guess..." She turned. He was beginning to snore, falling asleep swiftly. She shook her head, amused. "Men," she grumbled. She kissed his brow before she left.

***************************************************************************

It was raining. Moira could hear the water clattering against the windows. See it streaming down the glass panes. Wished she could smell the fresh, clean scent on the wind. There were not many people in the cafeteria as she downed her food.

"Do you mind?"

She looked up from her plate, smiled to see the Satedan towering over her. "Ronon. Please." She drank some lemonade, began eating again.

Ronon smiled, eyed the pile of food that was rapidly disappearing. "Hungry?"

"Starving," she said round a mouthful of potatoes. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days." They ate in companionable silence. Sated she sat back, sipped her lemonade. Wiped her mouth. "Is there something wrong?"

Ronon shook his head, finishing his own meal. "No."

Her gaze shot up as a few people entered. A few more left. Relaxing she met his gaze. "Are you sure there's not something wrong? I mean, don't get me wrong, I like your company and all but usually you sit with Teyla, or Rodney, or, or John." She felt her face warm and she drank her lemonade, chasing off the erotic memories.

Ronon smiled. "True. They're not here. You are."

"Okay. I guess." Her gaze darted again to scan the new arrivals. She looked back as Ronon watched her. "Okay, what is it? Did, did John..." she paused, trying not to stumble over his name each time she said it, "did he tell you to watch me?"

Ronon smirked with amusement. "No. I haven't seen him for several hours."

"Oh." Puzzled she ran her fork around her nearly empty plate. "Well, I'm finished. Thanks for the company." She stood, took her tray to the bin to empty it, stack it.

"Where are you going now?"

She whirled, looked up, up to meet Ronon's face, his calm but bemused expression. "I need to do some work in the lab."

"I wouldn't."

"Okay, look, what is going on?" She headed for the corridor. He followed. "John..." she paused, cursing to herself, "the colonel must have put you up to this. Did he tell you to, to guard me? I'm perfectly safe and I don't need–"

"Why would he tell me to guard you?"

"Did he tell you over the comm unit or before? I'm fine, Ronon, really, I don't need a–"

"I told you, Moira, I haven't seen nor heard from Sheppard in hours. Should I have?"

"No. Then why–"

"Call it a feeling. After this morning. I thought I should keep an eye on you since Sheppard isn't here with you."

She turned to face him, hands on hips. "Why?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I know something happened but I don't know what."

She smiled, touched his arm. "Ronon, everything is fine now. There was a little, um, tension, earlier. But it's been resolved. Honestly."

"Really?" he asked, not believing her.

"Really. Honestly. Go back and enjoy your dinner. I have to catch up on paperwork."

"And where is Sheppard?"

"Asleep," she blurted, colored. "I mean, I mean...oh never mind!" She snapped at his grin.

*********************************************************************

John rolled over on the bed, comfortable. His hand ran across the messy blankets. Found a silky garment. He grasped it, felt its sodden material. Opened his eyes to see Moira's violet panties in his fingers. He smiled. He sat up reluctantly, yawned. "Moira?" He yawned again, looking round the empty room. The fading light from the rain-streaked windows cast the surroundings into shades of gray. He could almost feel the chill of the air as the storm raged.

He considered, wondering where she would have gone. A knock at the door made him stare. Startled, almost embarrassed at being caught in her room, in her bed. Like a teenager again and he smirked at the feeling. He moved to his feet in a swift, silent motion. He headed for the door. Paused. Opened it. Stared.

Evan stared back. He looked past John, saw the messy bed, the blankets all askew, the pillows scrunched to one side. Gaze moving back to John. His disheveled appearance. The scratches on his upper arm. Shirt sloppily tucked half in, half out of his jeans. The belt undone. The top button undone but zipped up. The violet garment still clenched in his fingers.

John met his gaze. Merely smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

Genetic Drift8

Moira's fingers sped over the keyboard. Reversed. Corrected all the typos. Sped up again. Reversed. Corrected. With a sigh she shoved the data screen away from her. She rubbed her eyes, shifted in the chair again. She couldn't concentrate. The afternoon's intense intimacies were constantly in her mind. Baffling her, pleasing her, arousing her. She closed the laptop. Drummed her fingers on it. Trying to resist the urge to return. Trying to fight her body's urges. Reasoned that John had probably left her room by now, had gone back to work.

She smiled, stood. Returned to the cafeteria. She grabbed a beer and headed for her room, debating where he may have gone, what he could be doing. She froze, nearly dropped the bottle as she resumed her steps quietly. The two men were wordlessly staring at each other. "Evan? John?" Heart racing she neared, looked from one to the other. "What's, what's going on?"

John briefly glanced at her. "Is that for me?"

She suddenly remembered the bottle she was holding. "What? Oh...this? Yes. I thought..." Her words trailed into silence. She flushed, seeing what John was holding in his hand. What his unclenching fingers were clearly, so clearly revealing to Evan. Exactly what it was he was gripping possessively. Fingers stroking the violet silk, the lacy edge. Revealing the garment's identity. And their condition.

"Thank you, Moira. I am quite, quite thirsty," John stated, holding out his free hand. Eyes still locked with Evan's in some unspoken dialogue.

Moira handed it to him, stepping closer. Afraid to speak, appalled and fascinated all at once by the wordless conversation ensuing between the two men. "I...I just had dinner. Are you hungry?" She found it odd to be speaking such ordinary words. As if nothing was happening.

"No." John opened the bottle, took a deep drink. Licked his lips. "Are you sure you don't want a sip, Moira?"

"No. I don't like the, the taste," she faltered, looking from one to the other again. "Evan? Evan, did you want to see me?"

"Yes," Evan replied, not looking at her, "but it can wait until morning."

"Okay, then..." She paused, uncertain.

John took another long drink, swallowed. Licked his lips. "Are you coming, Moira?"

"I..." She hesitated, uncertain still. Captivated by the sensual undertone, his voice just hinting at lower tones. Desires. The deep pull on the bottle. The swallow. The slow movement of his tongue over his lips riveting, evocative. "Okay," she managed to say calmly. Just a trace of breathlessness in her tone. She stepped past Evan, past John who stepped aside for her to enter the room. Her room. She turned back quickly to watch the two men, embarrassed, angered.

"Good night," John said amiably. Closed the door. He drank another long swallow of the beer, enjoying the taste, the quenching of his thirst.

Moira waited, seeing the tension in his body, his back, his shoulders ease. Relax. He turned to her, an almost lazy motion. She grabbed the panties from his fingers, coloring at their wetness."John! What the hell was that? What were you doing? With these?" She shook the garment at him like a flag. "With that?" She pointed at the scratches, more visible with his sleeve shoved higher, revealing the biceps. "What just happened?" she demanded.

John took another drink, his gaze taking in her loose, billowing hair. Her violet shirt and gray jeans only slightly rumpled. Her flushed face, rosy lips, wide, now angry brown eyes. "Are you sure you don't want the rest?" He offered the bottle. "You were quite inviting when you were drunk, Moira," he teased with a slow smile.

She batted the bottle away from her. "John! What just happened?"

"I think you know, Moira." He sauntered to the bed, sat. Kicked off his shoes. Drank the beer. "It's handled."

"What? This was your way of handling it?" she demanded, hands on hips. She stood in front of him. "Geez, John, why didn't you just pull it out and mark your territory while you were at it!"

she fumed.

"Hmm...I should have thought of that," he agreed amiably, drinking the beer.

"Damn it!" She took the bottle from him, set it aside. "I'm serious, John! What the hell was that? What, it wasn't enough to tell him I was in your bed this morning? You had to flaunt it? You had to practically wave my underwear at him right after we did it to prove your words?"

"Yes," he answered simply. He leaned over to reach for the beer on the table.

"No!" She slapped his hand away from the bottle. "What do you mean, yes? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You are so fucking sexy when you're angry, did you know that, Moira? I can just imagine you riding me very hard now," he teased.

"John Sheppard!" She moved to the door. Opened it. "Get out!"

"No." His voice was quiet. Mild.

She turned. He had reclined back on the bed. Scooted up to adjust the pillows under his head. "I think your bed is more comfortable than mine," he observed, as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if Moira wasn't angry at all with him. "I know for a fact it is bigger. I've been meaning to ask you how you scored this bed in the first place."

His calm, ordinary, almost bored demeanor was infuriating. She stomped over to him. Hit his leg. "Will you get out of here?"

"No, Moira. I'm almost certain the mattress is better than mine, and larger," he observed, shifting lazily. He pulled off his belt, dropped it to the floor. "What I want to know is how you got this nice, comfy bed, while the military commander of Atlantis, that being me, got a lousy, uncomfortable narrow little cot that is actually worse than the ones I had in Antarctica." He sat up suddenly.

"Good! You can go back to your own fucking room," she fumed, ignoring his commentary on their beds. She moved to the open doorway. Gestured. "I don't understand this inexplicable, masculine behavior, nor do I want to! You've probably made things ten times worse now and I don't know what the hell to do. So get out!"

"Would you mind closing the door, Moira?"

She turned, stared. John had removed his shirt, flung it to the floor. He was in the act of removing his pants. She closed the door, watching as he stripped down to his boxers, pulled off his socks, balancing on one foot, then the other. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, but her anger became strangled desire as she stared. The graying light played over his lean torso, taut muscles. Strong arms, long legs. The glint of a silver chain, of silver dog tags against his dark chest hair.

He smiled. "What does it look like I'm doing, doctor?" He slipped under the blankets, settled comfortably. Lazily waved his hand at the switch to douse the room into darkness. Only the faint glow of the city lights dimmed by the storm wavered on the air. "I am going to find out what kind of mattress this is and get mine replaced." He wiggled under the blankets, tossed the boxers onto the floor after removing them.

She sighed, anger and amusement colliding. She stepped to the bed. Stared down at him. "John?"

"Aren't you coming to bed, Moira? I think we could both use some sleep...afterwards." He winked. "Didn't you promise to ride me? Ride me hard, baby?"

She stared, but couldn't fight the smile forming. She shook her head. "Men," she grumbled. "No. Not until you tell me what just happened. In the hallway," she clarified, trying not to be captivated by the mischief in his sparkling green eyes.

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that."

"Come to bed and I'll tell you. While you undress. Slowly."

She sighed again. Unbuttoned her shirt. "Fine. Explain, colonel."

"I told you," he said, settling to watch, "I handled it. Tomorrow everything will be fine. You'll see."

She removed her shirt, dropped it to the floor. Unzipped her jeans. "Really? And how did you accomplish that?" She removed the jeans. Sat to pull off her shoes. Hesitated.

"Socks too," he instructed. "It's a guy thing."

"A what?" She pulled off one sock, debated, pulled off the other. Glanced at her scarred foot. She slipped off her panties, hips swaying. Unhooked her bra, reaching back. "Well?"

"What? I was distracted...that pert little...anyway, oh, yeah, a guy thing. He knows."

"Knows? Knows what? That we're lovers? He already knew that." She removed the bra, moved to slip under the blankets next to him.

"Not so fast! Let me enjoy the view," he complained, gaze roving. "Yes, but it's one thing to know. Another to see. Absolute proof."

"You don't make any sense," she grumbled, but he pulled her on top of him, kissing her, pressing her body to his.

"I told you, it's a guy thing. Now, are you going to ride me, ride me hard, Moira? Like you promised?"

She laughed, squirming against him. "John! I never promised–"

He kissed her lengthily, hands roving, guiding her intimately to him. Parting. Lifting. "Ride me, Moira. Ride me hard," he repeated intently.

She showered him with kisses, moving to accommodate him. Hands sliding. Legs parting. She sat up, rocking, taking him in with a pleasant moan. "I'll try not to scratch you this time," she teased, starting the pleasurable motions.

He smiled. "Scratch away, baby, as long as you can bring us both," he teased.

***********************************************************************

Moira woke early. She freed herself from John's embrace, reluctant to leave him. She eyed him. He was fast asleep, on his side, limbs flung in every direction as he shifted. She smiled, quickly showered, dressed. Kissed him gently on the lips and left.

"Moira, are you coming to the lab today?"

Moira looked up from her nearly finished breakfast as Matthew Parrish joined her. She smiled. "Yes. Have you discovered something?"

"Yes! About the moss. I'll show you when you get down there. It's quite amazing!"

"Good. I'm going now," she assured, finishing her juice.

She moved down the hallway, headed for a transporter. Turned as the closing doors opened. Evan stepped inside, shut the doors. "You–"

"Moira, I'd like to talk to you. Privately. Not like before," he stated seriously.

"Okay. I was just on my way to the lab."

"Not private enough." He pressed buttons. Instead of going down the transporter went up, up. They emerged onto an upper level. Evan led her out onto a balcony. The sea glinted for miles and miles. Sparkling vivid blue in the sunlight. Both were silent, standing at the railing. Enjoying the view.

"Isn't that the mainland over there?" she asked, pointing to a distant smudge on the horizon.

"Yes. I think so." A pause. "Moira. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your–" she objected.

"No, please, let me finish. I am sorry! This thing...whatever it is, will pass. I don't want to lose your friendship either. I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me. I don't want you off my team. I think we work well together. As a team. I wish I could take back what I did, what I said, but I can't. But I can promise you it will never happen again."

She stared at the ocean, relieved. Embarrassed. "I don't want to lose your friendship either, Evan. And I don't want to be on another team. No one else would put up with me."

"That's true," he said, in complete seriousness.

"Evan!" She met his gaze. He smirked. She smiled. "I've missed our, our friendship."

"So have I. I'm sorry. Will you give me another chance?"

"Of course! I know it was difficult for you..." She eyed the ocean again. Recalled his odd, silent confrontation with John. John who was asleep in her room now. In her bed. The silent conversation while he held her sodden panties in his hand. She colored.

"Yes, but I don't want to hurt you, Moira." He touched her hand on the railing. "As long as you can forgive me I'll be fine."

She met his gaze. "Of, of course, Evan!"

He smiled. "Thank you. By the way, I did take your advice. Seeing as it was doctor's orders and all," he informed.

"My...what? Oh! The cold shower?"

"Yes...and a date. That did seem to help, after all."

"Oh! You mean you...oh!" She shook her head at his smile. "Men! What is with men and their blatant boasting of their, their–"

"Sexual conquests? You tell me, doctor. You're the biologist."

"Paleozoologist, actually, major." He laughed. She laughed. "Spare me the details, please!"

"Okay...as long as you spare me any details," he rejoined.

"Evan Lorne!" she scolded, but he laughed.

"I guess we'd better get to work. Let's go." He led her back to the transporter. "I don't think we'll be going off-world for a few weeks."

"Won't you get bored?"she asked, following him.

"I'll find something to do. Maybe that intern again, for one. Ow!"

She hit his arm. "Men! You're all the same!"

Evan laughed. "You asked, O'Meara. Seriously, maybe we could visit the mainland. Get out of the city, you know. There could be some interesting animals there. It hasn't really been explored, has it?"

"No...that's a good idea!"she agreed as they emerged onto a more familiar corridor. "I would like that. How about next week?"

"Yeah, okay. See you later." He turned, grinned at her. "Hey, Moira, as long as you can keep the colonel happy we'll all be happy. Got it?"

"Shut up, Evan," she scolded, but they laughed. Relieved at his return to his normal self she headed down the hallway. She wondered at his abrupt change. She stopped, seeing John heading in her direction, clad in fresh clothes. She met him as people passed, ignoring them. She smiled. "You were right."

He took a minute to realize what she meant. Smiled. "Told you I did."

She laughed. "All right, Yoda, there's no need to gloat,"she reprimanded.

"Alpha," he reminded.

She rolled her eyes. "I knew that was going to haunt me."

"You brought it up, Moira," he reminded her again.

She smiled. "Oh...that's right..." She glanced at his crotch, the gray pants. "I did bring it up...several times, as I recall." She met his gaze. "I'll have to be more careful next time."

"Not too careful," he countered. "Let me buy you a beer and we can discuss it."

"No, thanks. I don't want to repeat that."

"Really? Any of it?" he teased. "Huh...you did like repeating things...several times."

She laughed as he did, but countered, "I thought you didn't like re-runs, colonel."

"Depends. On what's playing. Or who," he teased boldly. "Or where." His gaze traveled along her body. Back to her eyes. "Always remember, Moira."

"Remember what, John?"

He grinned. "Always carry a spare."

"A spare? A..." She didn't complete her sentence as he thrust a wad of material in her hand. She looked down, recognized a pair of her panties. She stuffed them into her pocket, blushed as people passed, oblivious. Met his bemused gaze as he laughed. "John Sheppard, you son of a–"

"Do you need them now, Moira O'Meara? Or later?" he persisted. "I think now, hmm?"

"Moira! Are you coming?" a British voice hailed, interrupting their flirtation.

"Yes, Moira, are you coming?" John repeated, his tone low and so intimate it seemed to vibrate along her body. His meaning very clear.

"I'll be there in a minute!" Moira snapped, glaring at him.

"All right, all right, don't get your knickers in a twist!" the scientist replied.

John burst out laughing. Moira colored, amused and annoyed. John couldn't stop laughing, even as she shoved past him, hitting his shoulder in rebuttal. He stared after her.

Moira stopped at the corridor's end, turned. "Oh, John," she called sweetly, "you were right again. Thanks for the spare. Don't get too cocky, colonel." She laughed as he did, turned and headed for the lab at last.

John wiped his eyes, contained his merriment as he headed for the conference room. It was an effort not to laugh, not to grin, not to go after her. He hadn't enjoyed such verbal sparring with a woman in a while. And the rest was even better.

"Ah, finally! Where have you been?" Rodney asked, impatient.

"I was detained. Delayed," John explained vaguely. He took a seat. Drummed his fingers on the table. "Well?"

Rodney was staring at him. "Why are you so happy?"

"Can't I be happy?" John quipped, trying to downplay his merriment.

"Well, yes, but you are...you are excessively happy," Rodney accused. Pointed.

"I'm not!" John argued. "I'm just enjoying my time off, Rodney," he explained. His foot tapped the floor in concert to his fingers on the table. "Are we going to start?"

"Of course, John," Elizabeth opened her data pad, after staring at him for a moment. "Rodney, you were talking about the city's power grids," she prompted.

"Yes, I was," Rodney agreed, shot a look at John who was dutifully opening his own data screen to see the city plans, "so let me start again. The city's greatest usage is in the main areas highlighted on your screens, but we need additional power here. And here. The areas in red. The labs are woefully neglected. I think we can re-route a ZPM to those areas without hindering any other crucial operating systems. In green on your screens are the schematics for the procedure."

John watched the charts, the colors on the scans. Heard Rodney's stream of scientific words. His mind drifted again to Moira. Their flirtation in the hallway. The double entendre wordplay. The teasing admissions at the end, making him wonder if she was aroused. As aroused as he was becoming. He shifted on the chair, trying to keep his physical reactions to a minimum. Could only imagine Moira's amusement. Could imagine the teasing words she would use. Could imagine the teasing things her lips could do. He absently rubbed the scratches on his arm.

"John? Are you all right?"

He broke from his thoughts, met Elizabeth's quizzical, amused gaze. Glanced at Rodney's irritated one. "What? Oh, yeah. It's nothing." He dropped his hand down after pulling his sleeve over most of the scratches. As Rodney continued John regretted being reminded of the scratches. Reminded of how he had gotten them. The provocative words Moira had used, as he had requested. The quick consummation, the release. The repetition of his name as she came wildly, vividly, causing the scratches. He shifted again, his body all too eager to relive the memory, to repeat it. He wished he'd gone after her in the hallway.

"John? What is up with–"

"What, Rodney? What is it now?" John snapped, irritated. Embarrassed.

"Actually it was Elizabeth who spoke," Rodney informed with a smile. Enjoying seeing his friend so oddly out-of-sorts for a change.

"Shit. Sorry, sorry, Elizabeth," John apologized. Shrugged. "Guess I've got other things on my mind today."

"So I noticed," she remarked, amused. "Do you even know what we were discussing?"

"Of course." It took him a minute to retrieve it. "The power systems. By-passing a ZPM router to power more of the labs on deck C. But we can't afford to compromise any of the defensive grids." He smiled as Rodney grudgingly acquiesced.

"Very good. All right, let's talk about deck C. And those defensive grids," Elizabeth suggested. "That should keep you focused, John...at least for a little while."

*************************************************************************

Moira sat on a stool in the botany lab, peering into a microscope. Increased magnification revealed greenish cells. "I'm no botanist so what am I seeing again?"

"The moss," Matthew helpfully supplied. "Bisected at a molecular level. I can't quite separate the enzyme cells from those others, but when I can those will be safe to use an analgesic."

"Really?" Moira peered again. "The ones dyed red?"

"Yes. They have the same painkilling properties as ibuprofen but it's not. I think in small doses it could prove quite beneficial. Doctor Beckett agrees. Problem is the negative effects outweigh the positive."

"Hmm. There could be other plants like this, couldn't there? I mean, lacking the enzyme but beneficial otherwise?"

"Yes. This is a species native to the Pegasus galaxy. There is no known Earth equivalent as far as I know."

She frowned. "I don't like saying this, Matthew, but I think we may need to go back to MIM436 where it all began." She paused, thoughts flitting to John but she pushed them aside. "The plant life there is astonishing! It's not prehistoric, but it is a veritable garden of botanical discovery. There must be more here than a causal linkage between pleasure and pain. We need more–"

"As do I, Doctor O'Meara. I need to see you," John stated, gaze taking in her brown hair spilling loose halfway down her back. Her shapely rear perched on the edge of the stool as she leaned over the microscope. The khaki pants hugging her curves. The green shirt lifting to give a tiny glimpse of bare skin. "I have a biological necessity."

At the sound of his voice she smiled. Smirked at the slight strain in his voice. Straightened and turned on the stool to see him lounging in the doorway. His black t-shirt form fitting, his olive green pants the same. Her gaze moved down his body, up again, as if assessing. Feigned annoyance she replied, "A biological necessity, Colonel Sheppard? Are you sure it's not just a medical one?"

"Positive."

"How much time do you need?" she asked, sounding bored.

He tried not to smirk. "Five, no, ten minutes." He considered. "Make it fifteen."

"Fifteen?"she asked, surprised. Frowned. "Really, colonel? Are you certain?"

"Yes, doctor. Prep's been done. All we have to do is debrief. Debrief for five, consummate for ten."

Moira couldn't keep the smile from her face. "Is this an absolute necessity, colonel? I am very busy here with this botanical–"

"Absolutely," he insisted, shifting his stance. "At least fifteen, doctor." His expression was serious.

"You had better go, Moira," Matthew advised. "I don't think Colonel Sheppard would pull you out of here for nothing."

"No...he certainly doesn't pull out for just any reason," she agreed, enjoying his quick smile, his body's increasingly obvious discomfort. "Very well, colonel. I'm coming."

"Yes, doctor, you will come," he agreed.

Moira moved to him, pushed him playfully out of the doorway. Laughed softly as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along. She quickened her pace to match his. She pulled her hand free as they entered the transporter. "John? Your room or mine? What's the rush? Oh...I see..." She laughed.

He smiled, scowled at her as they stepped and into another hallway. "Hilarious, Moira. Yours. You have the better bed."

She followed him, then darted ahead to open the door. She whirled as he followed on her heels, stopped only to close the door. "Seriously, John, we were in an important–"

"So was I but some things just cannot wait, Moira. I knew you wouldn't refuse me. Can you really resist a gorgeous guy like me?" he asked, smiling, opening his arms.

She laughed, shook her head. "Do you remember everything I said when I was drunk?"

"Everything," he agreed, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her passionately, hands running down to grab her rear. To press her body against his.

Moira broke the passionate, probing kiss. "John?" Her eyes widened, feeling him already rock hard, eager. "Are you on the enzyme?"

He laughed. "No. I told you, I remember everything you say. It's that mouth of yours, Moira. The things you say with those rosy lips, when my tongue isn't inside it, that is."

"You started it, remember? You–" She gasped as he kissed her again. His hand slid round, up her thigh, between her thighs to grasp, to grope. To search.

"Ah..as ready as I am...well, nearly so," he remarked.

"John? You–"

He kissed her again, interrupting whatever she was going to say. Pulled her towards the bed. "What? Can't keep up with me, O'Meara?" he taunted. "Most women have that problem."

She smiled, pushed him backwards. He fell onto the bed. "Lucky for you I'm not most women, Sheppard. I can keep it up, don't you worry." She stretched on top of him, kissing him. She ran her mouth down his throat, down the scratches on his arm, squirming against him.

He groaned. "Sorry, Moira." He rolled them over suddenly. Undid her pants, yanked down pants and panties in one swift, practiced motion. Drew them off her. "No time for foreplay."

"You–" she protested, but he pushed her legs apart and unzipped, freed himself . Abruptly entered, thrusting into her with faster, faster movements. Moira held onto the bed, as the pleasure spiraled, spiraled, spilled in delicious anticipation. Then receded as John groaned, tensed. Shuddered with another deep thrust. He let out a long, satisfied sigh and fell upon her, still moving, slowing. Stopping.

"Ah...Moira...you have eased the burden of command," he teased happily. Kissed her throat. "What do you think?"

"Do you want a critique after that? Let me tell you, John, it's not going to be a very good performance review," she scolded.

He laughed. "No, I mean about the bed. How yours is more comf...hey! What do you mean by that?"

She laughed at his sudden consternation. "Seriously? Typical. That was it? Thanks, flyboy. Couldn't you have done that by yourself?" she griped, shifting under him.

He laughed tiredly. "It's much better this way. Much."

"I didn't need to be here at all," she continued, pushing halfheartedly at him. "While you flew to the stars I was still stranded at the terminal."

John tried not to laugh. "Sorry, Moira. I'm a much better pilot than that. Give me five...um, better make it ten minutes." He rolled off her. His hand slid up her bare thigh. "Meanwhile I can prep the engines and lubricate that sweet–"

She batted his hand away, rolled onto her side towards him. Pulled her shirt down. Sighed. "Too late, colonel. You already went full throttle." He laughed. "I expected better, colonel, but I guess you reached your optimum performance level last night." She kissed down his throat. Ran her hand under his shirt, up his chest. Then down his waist. Up and down. Up and down, each time moving tantalizingly closer to his unzipped, opened pants and opened boxers. But drawing back before she reached him.

"Ah, Moira," he sighed happily, enjoying the fell of her fingers, her nails against his skin.

"Where is your vaunted military precision, colonel? Where is your military thrust?" She pressed against his side, one leg draping over his. Her fingers continued their erotic dance as she kissed his lips, his throat. Wandered up to circle his ear. He groaned in sudden arousal, enjoyment. "Where's your military penetration? What's your twenty, colonel? Can you even take point on this target or have you depleted your arsenal?" She kissed down his throat.

Her mouth captured his as he groaned, enjoying every minute of her seductions, her teasing.. Her taunts.. Her mouth moved to his waist where her tongue ran down to the waistband of his shorts. "That's not a very good salute, soldier. You will have to be demoted back to captain with this poor performance record." Her mouth wandered along his hip as her hand caressed him, caught hold suddenly.

"Oh Moira, please," he said, straining, becoming hard rapidly. Body tensing in renewed arousal. She freed him. Slid back up to kiss his lips. To savor the taste of his mouth, the perfect fullness of his lips. "I'm sorry, colonel, but you've been demoted for not fulfilling your orders."

John caught her, rolled them over, captured her mouth with his. Tongue gliding easily into her now. Teasing. "I will follow your orders to the letter, doctor." He kissed her. "God I love that mouth of yours, sweetheart. You can make a man come just by talking."

"I wasn't–"

He kissed her, entered her slowly. "Don't worry, doctor. I will boost my performance ratio and earn back my rank. I know all about military strategy. Thrust. Penetration." He moved expertly, making her squirm, murmur, lose her breath. "Prepare to take flight, Moira," he promised, building a friction, a rhythm between them.

***********************************************************************

John caught his breath, rolled off her lazily, happily. "Better?" he inquired.

"The bed?" she asked breathlessly.

He laughed. "No. But yes. I think I earned back my rank." A pause. "Didn't I?"

She laughed tiredly. "Yes. You did, colonel. With bells on."

"Colonel? I should be a general after that, doctor. Bells or not." They laughed. "In fact I should be a four-star general, given your exclamations. Moira, you really...oh damn! I think I've left my earpiece on...to citywide," he joked.

"Hilarious, John," she scolded, hit his arm. She sat, pulled down her shirt. Scooted to the edge of the bed. She reached back to hook her bra. Grabbed her pants. "Where is my underwear? What is it with you and my..." She spotted her panties across the room. As he laughed she pulled out the pair from her pocket, slid into them.

"See? Always carry a spare, Moira." He laughed again as she reached back to smack his leg. He reassembled himself, his clothes. Zipped his pants.

"Hilarious, John." She pulled on her pants, back still to him. "You need to be more discreet."

"Discreet? I am the soul of discretion, Moira," he countered. "Doctor Parrish didn't have a clue what we were talking about, now did he?" He moved his foot against her lower back, her rear. "I admit I was a little distracted...all right, I couldn't stop thinking of this morning. Or last night. It's your mouth, Moira...the things you say to me."

She scooted back to him, nestled next to him. His arm slid round her, drew her closer. "So you're going to blame all of this on my mouth?"

"Yes." He laughed as she playfully hit his thigh. "Hey, watch the merchandise, sweetheart. From now on I think you should go commando. At least when we are in the city."

"Ha ha. Maybe I should. It would certainly save me time. And underwear."

He laughed, stroked her back. "Ah, Moira. You are wearing me out...but in a good way."

"Me? It's you, John! You can't seem to get enough of, of, of..." she spluttered, embarrassed.

"Sex?" he helpfully supplied. "Yes. Of you," he agreed. "It's that luscious, naughty mouth of yours, Moira."

"You're one to talk, John." She kissed him, stroked his chest, the black t-shirt warm under her fingers.

"So...what was it about M1M436?" he asked, relaxing on the bed, next to her.

"Wow, you do remember everything," she said, impressed.

"Everything that comes out of that brazen little mouth of yours, yes. Ow!"

She hit his arm. "M1M436?" she prompted.

"Wow, Moira, can't you remember anything?" he teased, closing his eyes.

"Not after you do those wonderful things to me, no." She sobered. "We need to go back there. Specifically Doctor Parrish, a group of botanists, and myself, although I am no botanist but still I have some experience with those plants and the planet itself, to gather more–"

"No." His answer was mild, almost disinterested.

"No? Here we go again," she sighed. Sat free of his arm. "John, will you at least listen? We need more specimens! More examples of the abundant plant life!"

"No," he repeated evenly. Stretched languidly on the bed, flexing legs, arms.

"Why are you like this? You can be so stubborn sometimes, so frustrating, so obstinate when it comes to any scientific evaluation of a–"

"Just don't call me a nerfherder," he cautioned.

She stared, laughed. "Okay, laser brain."

He laughed. "Your worshipfulness."

"Seriously, John we need to go–"

"No." He opened his eyes, met her irritated gaze. "And you're not getting around me this time, Moira. No charming Lorne to disobey orders. No running to Weir about some blah blah science discovery stuff. You will keep your pert little ass right here until I order otherwise."

She smirked as he closed his eyes. She nestled against him, ran soft kisses along his jaw. "Strawberries, John."

"Hilarious, Moira. No."

She kissed him again, pressing her body close, resting her head on his chest. "Strawberries," she repeated slowly.

"Won't work. You've spent all my energy. For now. Not even fifteen will–"

"What about my mouth, sweetie?" she whispered in his ear. Circled it with kisses to make him groan softly. Her hands running along his body. "My mouth." She kissed his throat. Tongue flicking along his skin. "My tongue." She ran her lips over his scratched arm. "My lips tasting like ripe, red, juicy strawberries. Bursting with juice, sweet, ripe juice to lick and to savor."

"Fuck," John muttered, not unpleasantly. Opened his eyes and rolled to face her, kissed her. Drew her body against his. He put his hand over her mouth. "Ssh! I can do the same to you, Moira. With my mouth. With my hands. Oh yes, with my hand, hmm? With my tongue?" She moved his hand away, grabbed the other as he caressed between her legs.

"John...we need to go back–"

He kissed her again, stopping her words. "Ssh! We can discuss this later, all right? Not now. I need a nap. So do you. No post-coital talking, that is the new rule. Got it, baby?"

She smiled, relented. "As ordered, colonel."

"Good. Then I intend to savor every last drop of that strawberry."


End file.
